THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MAN. 


THE  TRAGEDY 

OF  MAN 

Dramatic  Poem 

BY 
IMRE  MADACH 

Translated  from  the  original  Hungarian 
BY 

WILLIAM  N.  LOEW 

Of  the  New  York  Bar 


NEW  YORK 
THE  ARCADIA  PRESS 


1° 


, 


PR  328  / 

tvs 

1 40? 


DEDICATION. 


TO 


Dr.  Antal  Eugene, 
Bftrd  Imre, 
Berko  D.   G6za, 
Rev.  Csekes  B61a, 
Er6nyi  Ervin, 
Fecs6  Imre, 
Rev.  H&mborszky  N., 
Rev.  Hank6  Julius, 
Rev.  Harsdnyi  Stephen, 
Kem£ny  George, 
Koh&nyi  TihamSr  E., 


Rev.  KOV&CS  Coloman, 

Rev.  Kuthy  Zoltau, 

Rev.   Messerschmidt  GSza, 

Dr.  Mogyorossy  Arcadius, 

Rev.  Ndn^ssy  Louis, 

Pesty  Julius, 

R&cz-R6nay  Alexander, 

Dr.  Singer  Michael, 

Rev.  Szepessy  Julius, 

Rev.  Varlaky  Alexander, 

Warm  William, 


the  editors  of  the 
twenty-two  Hungarian  newspapers 

in  the  U.  S. 

in  grateful  appreciation  of  their  noble  work  in  mould- 
ing the  Magyars  in  America  into  loyal  American 
citizenship,  this  book  is  respectfully  dedicated. 


INTRODUCTION. 

IN  order  fully  to  comprehend  the  tremendous  diffi- 
culties attending  the  translation  into  English  of  a 
work  like  the  present,  it  is  necessary  to  understand 
that  a  broad  gulf  separates  the  Hungarian — Magyar 
— language  from  the  English  and  all  other  European 
languages. 

Not  even  of  Aryan  origin,  its  construction  can  not 
be  explained  according  to  the  principles  of  Aryan 
languages  and  its  conciseness  and  strength  cannot 
be  transferred.  This  is  not  an  apology,  it  is  the 
statement  of  a  fact. 

To  produce,  even  approximately,  the  sense  of  an 
expression,  it  is  frequently  necessary  to  render  one 
Hungarian  word  into  five  or  six  of  any  other  Euro- 
pean language;  hence  the  gigantic  difficulty  of  trans- 
lating a  masterpiece  of  Hungarian  literature  into 
any  Aryan  language  must  of  necessity  be  greater 
than  that  of  translation  from  a  kindred  idiom. 

In  the  Magyar,  the  most  perfect  of  all  the  Turan- 
ian languages,  there  has  been  produced  a  great 
literature,  much  of  which  is  practically  unknown 
outside  of  Hungary. 

A  comparatively  small  nation,  Hungary  has  pro- 
duced an  overwhelming  amount  of  poetical  writings, 
and  if  the  glowing  Oriental  imagery,  the  profound 
Occidental  philosophy,  the  striking  originality  of  the 
so-called  "  trio  of  the  revolution  "  viz :  Petofl,  Arany 
and  Vorosmarty  had  emanated  from  English,  French 
or  German  minds,  the  hearts  of  all  the  nations  of  the 
civilized  world  would  have  responded  with  greater 


INTRODUCTION  8 

enthusiasm  than  to  the  production  of  Heine,  Tenny- 
son or  Alfred  de  Musset. 

Do  not  misunderstand  me.  These  three  names  here 
are  used  for  the  purposes  of  illustration  only  and 
with  no  desire  to  convey  to  the  reader  the  idea  as 
if  we  wanted  Petofl  to  be  thought  to  be  the  Magyar 
Heine,  or  Arany  the  Magyar  Tennyson,  and  Voros- 
marty  the  Magyar  Musset. 

Certainly  not.  The  three  Magyar  poets  rank 
higher  and  tower  over  and  above  the  German,  Eng- 
lish and  French  poets  named,  and  yet, — while  the 
civilized  world  knows  it  loves  and  admires  Heine, 
Tennyson  and  Musset,  the  three  God-born  sons  of 
Song  of  Magyarland,  Petofl,  Vorosmarty  and  Arany, 
are,  comparatively  speaking, — unknown  to  it. 

The  most  brilliant  creation  of  Hungary's  dramatic 
literature,  the  "  Tragedy  of  Man "  by  Imre  Madflch, 
has  not  yet  been  presented  to  English  speaking 
peoples. 

And  yet  it  is  a  work  sublimely  grand  in  its  con- 
ception. 

What  Goethe  thought  of  in  the  second  part  of  his 
"  Faust "  was  brought  by  Madden  into  concrete  form, 
beautiful  and  poetical. 

However,  I  am  relieved  from  the  distressing  con- 
dition I  would  find  myself  in  of  being  obliged  to  give 
my  own  opinion  of  the  beauty,  splendor  and  grandeur 
of  the  work  in  question,  thus  subjecting  myself  to  the 
charge  of  being  partial.  Fortunately  I  am  enabled  to 
insert  here,  instead  of  giving  my  own  views  and 
opinions,  the  weighty  views  and  opinions  of  a  Grand 
Master  of  Magyar  literature. 

I  copy  here  from  the  XVI.  Chapter  of  "  A  History 
of  Hungarian  Literature"  by  Frederick  Riedl,  Ph.D., 
in  Edmund  Gosse's  Literatures  of  the  World,  Lon- 
don, William  Heinemann  MCMVI. 


9  INTRODUCTION 

The  Tragedy  of  Man  is  a  poem  of  the  type  of 
Goethe's  Faust  and  Byron's  Cain.  It  is  not  one  man, 
nor  even  a  group  of  men,  that  the  poet  has  chosen  as 
the  subject  of  his  theme,  but,  boldly  enough,  the 
whole  of  mankind.  His  hero  is  Adam,  the  eternal 
type  of  humanity.  The  work  displays  the  whole  his- 
tory of  man,  not  merely  his  past,  but  his  present,  and 
even  his  future.  We  witness  the  whole  process  of 
man's  development,  up  to  the  time  when  the  human 
race  will  be  extinguished,  and  its  earthly  home  be- 
come frozen  and  uninhabitable.  Seen  through  the 
eyes  of  the  poet,  that  history  appears  a  huge,  grim 
tragedy.  The  problem  for  the  poet  to  solve  was, 
how  to  compress  such  an  immense  subject  within 
the  narrow  limit  of  a  single  drama. 

The  opening  scene  is  laid  on  biblical  ground,  in 
Eden.  Adam  yields  to  the  temptation  of  Lucifer 
and  tastes  the  fruit  of  the  Tree  of  Knowledge.  After 
losing  Eden,  the  fallen  man  and  his  mate  have  to 
endure  the  hardships  of  exile,  and  they  long  to  cast 
a  glance  into  the  far-off  future  to  see  what  is  to  be 
the  outcome  of  their  toils  and  sufferings. 

Lucifer,  whose  aim  is  to  destroy  the  newly  created 
human  race  at  the  very  outset,  causes  the  pair  to 
sink  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  evokes  a  succession  of 
visions  which  reveal  the  future  of  humanity,  and  in 
which  Adam  beholds  scene  after  scene  of  the  world's 
future,  himself  taking  an  active  part  in  each. 

The  hero  of  each  vision,  or  of  each  epoch,  is  Adam 
himself,  the  eternal  Man,  in  whom  are  embodied  the 
most  characteristic  features  and  the  leading  ideas  of 
each  age.  The  visions  represent  for  Adam,  and,  in 
consequence,  for  the  whole  human  race  which  he 
typifies,  a  long  series  of  what  the  French  call  illusions 
perdues.  In  each  vision  or  each  part  of  the  drama; 
we  see  new  aspirations,  only  to  be  followed  by  fresh 


INTRODUCTION  10 

disillusion.     Mankind   for   ever   pursues   new   ideals, 
but  is  for  ever  deceived  and  baulked. 

In  the  first  vision  Adam  apears  as  Pharaoh  in 
Egypt,  while  Eve  has  the  form  of  a  slave.  Adam 
sees  clearly  that  the  fundamental  conception  of  the 
Egyptian  State  is,  the  millions  for  the  one — the 
ruler.  Adam  wishes  to  destroy  that  conception,  and 
he  longs  to  free  both  himself  and  his  fellow  men  from 
the  fetters  in  which  it  binds  them. 

The  next  vision  shows  the  realisation  of  his  hope. 
Adam  reappears  in  the  personality  of  Miltiades,  in 
democratic  Athens.  But  alas,  his  faith  in  the  power 
of  democracy  is  vain.  His  ideal  is  realised,  yet  its 
realisation  brings  only  disappointment.  The  Athenian 
mob  cannot  make  a  worthy  use  of  freedom,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  pass  judgment  upon  its  great  leader  Milti- 
ades, demanding  his  death.  In  the  soul  of  Miltiades, 
smarting  beneath  the  cruel  defeat  of  his  hopes,  bitter 
thoughts  arise.  He  mocks  at  his  own  aspirations 
and  calls  that  age  alone  happy  which  denies  virtue 
and  does  not  dream  of  or  struggle  towards  lofty 
ideals. 

And  such  an  age  does  arrive,  when  man's  one 
purpose  has  become  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.  We 
find  Adam  at  a  bacchanalian  feast  in  the  sensual, 
dissolute  world  of  the  late  Roman  Empire.  All  at 
once,  at  the  orgies  of  the  insane  revellers  there  ap- 
pears an  awful  guest,  the  Plague.  The  Apostle  Peter 
holds  aloft  the  Cross,  and  preaches  to  the  terrified 
Roman  world  the  gospel  of  Christianity  and  asceti- 
cism. 

What  fate  awaits  the  new  ideal  is  shown  in  the 
next  vision,  where  Adam,  as  Tancred  the  Crusader, 
sees  how  a  perverted  religion  exalts  celibacy  and 
stigmatises  pure  love  as  a  rrhuo ;  he  sees  how  in 
tin-  r.yxantlne  Christian  world  Christianity  has  de- 


11  INTRODUCTION 

generated  into  :i  religion  of  petty  dogmas,  ridiculous 
controversies  and  brutal  intolerance.  Men  have  lost 
the  spirit,  and  heed  but  the  letter.  What  has  become 
of  the  sacred  religion  of  love  and  self-sacrifice? 
Adam  (still  in  the  vision)  yearns  for  something  al- 
together different  from  this,  which  has  filled  him 
with  nothing  but  bitter  disappointment.  "  I  am 
exhausted  and  long  for  rest." 

In  the  following  scene  Adam  is  the  astronomer 
Kepler,  absorbed  in  his  studies,  and  keeping  aloof 
from  the  world.  But  science  alone  cannot  yield  him 
satisfaction:  in  his  quiet  laboratory  he  yearns  for 
great  reforms,  and  heroic  deeds,  which  should  fash- 
ion the  world  anew. 

And  the  age  of  colossal  events  arrives,  the  age 
which  sees  the  ancient  world  totter  to  its  foun- 
dations and  sink  with  a  great  crash  into  ruin.  The 
day  of  the  French  Revolution  has  dawned,  and  Adam 
reappears  as  Danton.  But  the  prediction  concerning 
the  French  Revolution,  that,  like  Saturn,  it  would 
destroy  its  own  children,  is  fulfilled.  The  Revolu- 
tion turns  against  its  heroes  and  Danton  dies  oil 
the  scaffold. 

Then  we  come  to  the  present  age.  Adam,  who 
had  wished  for  a  State  founded  on  liberty  and  order, 
finds  himself  in  such  a  State :  he  has  become  a  citizen 
of  London.  Yet  disappointment  awaits  him  even 
here.  The  world  has  indeed  become  wide,  but  of  a 
dead  level  of  mediocrity.  Love  itself  is  to  be  bought 
and  sold.  The  whole  world  is  an  immense  market, 
in  which  none  of  the  higher  impulses  find  play,  and 
the  soul  of  Adam  is  possessed  with  the  idea  that 
this  stream  of  people,  this  crowd  filling  the  streets 
of  the  great  metropolis,  is  engaged  in  the  one  task 
of  digging  its  own  grave.  Adam  sees  the  vast  grave, 
but  sees  above  it,  while  all  the  rest  sink  into  its 


INTRODUCTION  12 

depths,  Eve  freed  from  all  that  is  base,  radiant  in 
her  purity,  flying  heavenward  as  the  genius  of  Love. 

The  ninth  scene  is  laid  in  the  future,  in  the  new 
socialistic  world  that  is  to  be.  Adam,  as  a  travel- 
ling scholar,  visits  the  State  of  the  future,  the 
Phalanstere,  established  in  accordance  with  the  ideas 
of  the  French  socialists.  The  whole  world  is  one 
vast  settlement ;  the  individual  has  no  power  or 
initiative,  for  everything  is  determined  by  the  com- 
mon will.  The  idea  of  Fatherland  has  long  ceased 
to  exist.  Every  man  is  but  a  part  of  a  huge  ma- 
chine, the  Phalanstere.  No  man  has  a  name,  but 
merely  a  number,  like  a  prisoner.  Every  action  is 
in  conformity  with  the  common  good,  but  this  con- 
formity has  the  lifeless  perfection  only  to  be  found 
in  a  machine.  Art  and  poetry  have  become  super- 
fluous, it  is  only  the  useful  which  has  a  right  to 
exist.  The  horse  and  the  dog  are  only  to  be  found 
in  archaeological  museums:  their  place  has  been 
taken  by  machinery. 

The  heads  of  babies  are  carefully  examined  by 
phrenologists,  in  order  that  their  careers  may  be 
judiciously  chosen.  The  divine  Plato  himself  is  con- 
sidered insane  here,  and  fit  only  for  prison.  Adam, 
however,  is  repelled  by  such  a  world,  so  like  a  vast 
automaton,  uninspired  by  a  single  grand  idea,  and 
illumined  by  no  lofty  virtue. 

And  at  length  the  end  approaches,  the  dreary,  sad, 
inglorious  end.  Adam  sees  mankind  rapidly  nearing 
the  time  when  the  last  feeble  spark  of  human  life 
will  be  extinguished.  The  globe  of  the  sun,  shorn  of 
its  rays,  so  that  Adam  takes  its  blood-red  disc  for 
the  moon,  sheds  its  dim  light  upon  a  frozen  world. 
The  last  men  of  the  race,  a  few  degenerate  Esqui- 
maux, are  dragging  out  a  miserable  existence.  When 
Adam  arrives  among  them  they  take  him  for  a  god, 


13  INTRODUCTION 

and  request  that  he  would  see  that  there  were  fewer 
Esquimaux  but  more  seals. 

So  this  is  the  goal  to  which  all  his  struggles  and 
aspirations  are  to  lead,  Adam  thinks.  His  wretched- 
ness is  increased  by  the  sight  of  Eve,  as  the  mate  of 
an  Esquimaux,  who  humbly  offers  his  wife's  love  to 
the  stranger  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the 
land.  "  I — I  embrace  this  woman,"  cries  Adam  in 
horror,  "  I  who  once  held  Aspasia  in  my  arms !  " 

La  farce  est  jou&e.  Adam,  who  has  stood  beside 
both  the  cradle  and  the  tomb  of  mankind,  awakes 
from  the  awful  dream.  Was  this  to  be  the  future 
of  the  race,  his  race?  At  the  moment  of  waking, 
the  visions  just  seen  appear  so  terrible  to  him  that 
he  decides  to  put  a  speedy  end  to  the  long,  painful 
struggle,  of  the  dreadful  issue  of  which  he  has  been 
warned  by  those  prophetic  dreams — yes,  to  put  an 
end  to  it,  or,  rather,  to  prevent  its  ever  beginning 
by  stopping  the  stream  of  human  life  at  its  source — 
by  his  own  self-destruction.  But  just  as  he  is  step- 
ping on  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  to  carry  out  his 
fatal  resolve,  Eve  approaches  and  whispers  in  his 
ear  a  secret,  the  first  secret  of  the  young  world: 
she  is  going  to  become  a  mother.  Adam  sinks  into 
the  dust  crying,  "  Lord,  Thou  hast  vanquished  me !  " 
And  the  skies  open,  and  God  looks  down  upon  the 
kneeling  Adam  and  strengthens  him  for  the  coming 
struggle,  in  which  he  is  not  to  be  left  without  help. 
In  the  face  of  life's  adversities  God  bids  him 
"  Strive  and  Trust ! "  and  with  these  words  the 
drama  ends. 

Critics  have  commented  on  this  work  from  two 
different  points  of  view.  Some  say  that  the  dreams 
were  recognised  by  the  poet  himself  not  to  be  in  ac- 
cordance with  historical  truth,  and  were  deliberately 
chosen  by  Lucifer  with  the  diabolical  aim  of  driving 


INTRODUCTION  14 

Adam  to  despair  and  suicide,  and  so  destroying  in 
hm  the  whole  human  race.  Others  explain  the  drama 
by  saying  that  the  great  events  and  epochs  of  history 
appeared  to  Mad^ch  himself  in  the  gloomy  light  in 
which  he  depicts  them.  According  to  those  commen- 
tators, Mad&ch,  the  poet  of  disillusion,  who  even  in 
his  lyric  poems  generally  lamented  some  disappoint- 
ment, saw  in  the  history  of  the  world  nothing  but  a 
constant  shattering  of  the  hopes  which  spring  up 
from  generation  to  generation.  Every  age  has  its 
ideals,  but  even  when  reached  they  prove  delusive. 

Is  man's  history  then  really  what  Petofi  said  of  it, 
in  a  dark  hour  of  doubt  and  hopelessness?  "  We 
are  like  the  tree  which  flowers  and  fades:  like  the 
waves  which  rise  and  fall:  like  the  traveller,  who 
mounts  a  hill  only  to  descend  again.  And  so  it  goes 
on  to  all  eternity,  up  and  down,  up  and  down." 

If  we  take  that  view  of  The  Tragedy  of  Man,  its 
teaching  is  that  the  alternation  of  hope  and  disil- 
lusion, of  ardent  enthusiasm  and  bitter  disappoint- 
ment, which  in  other  of  his  works  is  Mad&ch's 
favourite  theme,  is  the  inevitable  lot  of  mortals, 
and  the  whole  drama  may  be  regarded  as  an  ex- 
pansion of  Schopenhauer's  well-known  dictum,  that 
history  is  a  painful  nightmare  weighing  down  the 
mind  of  humanity. 

But  is  there  then  no  consolation  in  this  long  series 
of  disappointments?  Does  no  stray,  cheering  sun- 
beam break  through  the  darkness?  The  poet  answers 
in  the  words  of  God,  words  which,  in  my  opinion, 
express  the  main  idea  of  the  book:  "Search  not 
for  the  secret  which  a  divine  wisdom  has  mercifully 
hidden  from  thy  sight."  God  points  to  love  and 
spiritual  aspirations  for  consolation,  and  sets  the 
happiness  of  individual  life  against  the  unhappy 
the  race.  Even  if  the  history  of  mankind 


15  INTRODUCTION 

as  a  whole  should  prove  sad  and  disappointing,  God 
has  blessed  the  life  of  the  individual  with  many  joys 
and  hopes. 

This  book  of  Mad&ch  is  the  first  in  Hungarian 
literature  which  deals  not  with  the  life  of  one  man, 
or  of  the  nation,  but  with  mankind  as  a  whole.  But 
The  Tragedy  of  Man  marks  a  new  departure  in 
other  respects  as  well.  There  are  two  contending 
elements  in  it,  imagination  and  reflection.  The 
author's  ideas  do  not  always  rise  to  the  poetic  level, 
and  we  sometimes  have  metrical  prose  rather  than 
true  poetry,  though  as  prose  it  is  undoubtedly  of 
high  quality.  This  peculiarity  in  its  language  makes 
the  poem  a  characteristic  product  of  its  age. 

The  same  transition  from  imagination  to  philo- 
sophical reflection  which  we  find  in  it,  is  to  be  traced 
on  a  larger  scale  in  the  whole  of  the  literature  of  the 
period.  It  is  one  of  the  defects  of  MadHch's  poems 
that  his  philosophical  reflection  is  not  beautified  by 
imagination,  but  remains  abstract  and  logical.  An- 
other imperfection  is  in  the  drawing  of  his  characters. 

The  plan  of  the  poem  demands  that  at  each  epoch 
of  the  world's  history  a  complete  transformation 
should  take  place  in  the  soul  of  Adam,  but  as  such  a 
change  is  only  conceivable  as  the  result  of  a  long 
process  of  development,  it  could  not  possibly  occur 
as  abruptly  as  it  is  made  to  do.  For  instance,  we 
see  that  in  the  mind  of  Adam,  as  the  Egyptian 
Pharaoh,  the  conception  of  a  thoroughly  democratic 
state  springs  into  being  instantaneously,  but  this  is 
manifestly  impossible,  for  at  that  period  all  the 
psychological  conditions  and  historical  precedents 
which  could  engender  such  a  notion  were  lacking. 
Whereas  mental  growth  is  really  a  gradual  modifi- 
cation of  existing  ideas,  in  the  poem  there  are  noth- 
ing but  sudden  and  startling  contrasts.  Adam  sets 


INTRODUCTION  16 

his  heart  upon  the  exact  opposite  of  the  conditions 
which  have  proved  so  unsatisfactory. 

As  regards  the  other  important  character  in  the 
drama,  Eve,  the  eternal  woman,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  in  all  her  various  transformations  she  is  more 
like  an  abstraction  that  a  real  living  woman.  Yet  in 
spite  of  these  imperfections,  the  conception  of  the 
whole  wondrous  course  of  the  human  race  is  very 
grand,  and  the  genius  displayed  in  every  detail  very 
great. 

Imre  Mad&ch  was  born  on  the  21st  of  January, 
1821,  at  Also-Hregova,  in  the  County  of  Neograd  in 
Hungary,  the  scion  of  an  ancient,  noble  Magyar 
family. 

The  masterwork  of  his  life,  The  Tragedy  of  Man, 
he  finished  in  1860.  He  died  on  the  4th  day  of 
October,  1864. 

Whether  I  have  succeeded  in  giving  in  the  English 
version  even  a  faint  idea  of  the  beauty  and  the 
splendour  of  the  original  Magyar,  must  be  judged 
by  you,  gentle  reader,  and  by  the  critics.  All  I  know 
is,  that  if  my  ability  as  a  translator  from  Hungarian 
into  English  would  be  in  equal  ratio  with  the  love 
and  the  devotion  wherewith  I  made  the  translation, 
I'd  fear  no  criticism  however  severe  and  exacting. 
I  assure  the  gentle  reader  to  have  done  my  work 
"  Con  amore." 

WILLIAM  N.  LOEW. 

NEW  YORK,   October,   1908. 


SCENE  I. 

(Heaven.  The  Lord,  on  his  throne,  surrounded  by  a 
halo.  Hosts  of  kneeling  angels.  The  four  arch- 
angels standing  by  the  throne.  Dazzling  bright- 


CHOBUS  OF  ANGELS. 
Glory  be  unto  our  Lord  on  high, 
Whose  one  commanding  word  to  all  gave  birth ; 
Who  all  can  end  with  one  glance  of  his  eye. 
Praise  him  ye  Heavens  above,  praise  him,  O  earth ! 
He  is  all  might,  all  wisdom,  all  delight ; 
Our  part  is  but  the  shadow  o'er  us  thrown ; 
And  for  this  boundless  grace,  we  now  unite, 
Our  songs  of  adoration,  to  intone. 
Embodied  is  the  thought,  great,  infinite, 
Complete,  the  whole  creation,  and  our  Lord 
Awaits  from  all  that  breathe,  but  to  unite, 
To  pay  their  worship's  dole,  with  one  accord. 

THE  LOED. 

The  mighty  masterpiece  at  last  is  done ; 
The  wheel  revolves ;  the  master  on  his  throne 
Doth  rest.     A  million  aeons  now  'twill  move, 
Before  the  smallest  spoke  shall  faulty  prove, 
Arise,  ye  genii  of  my  worlds ;  I  send 
You  now,  upon  a  course  which  has  no  end ; 
And  rolling  'neath  my  feet,  but  let  me  gaze 
Entranced,  upon  you,  filled  with  proud  amaze. 
(The  genii  of  the  planets  storm  by,  rolling  stars  of 
17 


THE    TRAGEDY  18 

OF    MAN 

diverse  magnitude;  double  stars,  fixed  stars,  neb- 
ulae and  comets  swarm  about  the  throne.  Soft 
music  of  the  spheres. 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS. 
See  the  haughty  ball  of  flame, 
As  he  proudly  rides  the  sky ; 
Serving,  though  unwittingly, 
Starry  groups  that  'bout  him  lie. 
Here,  like  a  dim  and  flick'ring  lamp, 
A  tiny  twinkling  star  appears; 
But  'tis  a  measureless  great  world, 
Which  full  a  million  creatures  bears. 
See!  flashing,  whirling  now  apart, 
In  combat  those  two  spheres  that  meet, 
Onward  bearing  in  their  course, 
Traces  of  the  struggle  fleet. 
One,  trembling  in  the  distance  shines, 
As  thundering  it  rolls  below ; 
While  on  its  bosom  sweetest  peace, 
To  a  million  hearts  it  doth  bestow. 
How  modest  shineth  yonder  star, 
Soon  to  be  called  the  star  of  love ; 
The  earthly  race,  with  tender  hand 
She  guards,  a  solace  from  above. 
Here  are  the  tombs  of  worlds  destroyed; 
Yonder  rise  others,  newly  born; 
A  warning  voice  unto  the  vain, 
A  ray  of  hope  to  the  forlorn. 
And  there  too,  all  order  leaving, 
The  comet's  image  dread  finds  place ; 
But  to  the  Lord's  voice  barkening, 
In  order  moves.     Then  beams  thy  face, 
O  youthful  spirit  dear,  who  bear'st 
The  ever  changing  mundane  sphere, 


19  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

In  mourning  garments,  festal  robes; 
In  green,  then  white,  thou  dost  appear. 
Upon  thee,  Heaven's  blessing  rest! 
Then  forth,  come  forth,  without  delay. 
Within  thy  narrow  boundary, 
Great  minds  will  be  at  strife  alway; 
Both  good  and  ill,  both  smile  and  tear, 
Winter  and  spring,  each  will  find  place; 
Light  and  shadow  will  be  near; 
The  wrath  of  God,  his  tender  grace. 

(The  genii  of  tJie  stars  retreat.) 

THE  ARCHANGEL  GABRIEL. 
O  thou  who  measurest  infinite  space, 
All  matter  therein  that  is,  hast  made; 
All  greatness,  boundless  time  and  place, 
Called  into  being,  thy  command  obeyed: 
Hosanna,  Mind,  to  Thee! 

(Prostrates  himself.) 

THE  ARCHANGEL  MICHAEL. 
Thou  all  that's  mutable  or  firm, 
United  hast  by  law  divine ; 
To  time  unending  set  a  term, 
Made  man,  and  race  of  men  for  thine: 
Hosanna,  Force,  to  Thee! 

(Prostrates  himself.) 

THE  ARCHANGEL  RAPHAEL. 

And  thou,  o'erwhelming  floods  of  bliss  dost  send, 
The  body  waking  thus  to  consciousness ; 
Thy  wisdom  whereso'er  it  doth  descend, 
The  whole  earth  blessing  brings  and  happiness: 
Hosanna,  Love,  to  Thee! 

(Prostrates  himself.) 
(Silence.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  20 

OF    MAN 


THE  LORD. 

Thou,  Lucifer,  in  gloomy  silence,  stsind'st 
Apart.    Hast  thou  no  word  of  praise  for  me? 
Or  finds  my  work  no  favor  in  thy  sight? 

LUCIFEE. 

Wherefore  should  I  be  pleased,  that  elements 

Diverse,  new  properties  assume,  existent 

Before,  though  unrevealed,  but  still  of  which 

Thou  hadst  not  an  idea;  and  if  thou  hadst 

Thou  would'st  have  had  no  power  to  alter  them. 

A  few  spheres,  drawn  and  kneaded,  together  welded; 

Just  a  few  worms,  to  conscious  being  waked; 

Till  all  shall  be  completed  and  cooled  off, 

When  naught  but  senseless  dross  thereof  remains, 

Which  man,  espying,  eagerly  would  seize 

For  his  retort,  as  even  thou  mankind 

In  thine  immense  retort  hast  placed,  and  see'st 

How  he  doth  seethe  and  boil  and  simmer  there, 

And  look  upon  himslf  as  God,  like  thee. 

But  should  he  sometime  spoil  and  waste  the  broth, 

Then  all  thy  tardy  wrath  o'er  him  would  burst. 

But  then,  what  would'st  thou  of  a  dilettante? 

Thou'st  written  but  a  poem  in  thy  praise, 

But  placed  it  in  a  mechanism  poor, 

And  growest  never  weary  of  this  lay, 

This  ever  limited  eternity. 

But  is  this  worthy  of  an  aged  sire, 

This  toy,  fit  but  to  move  a  childish  heart? 

Treading  the  mire,  a  tiny  spark  that  mimics 

Its  Lord ;  a  caricature,  and  no  true  image; 

With  fate  and  liberty,  pursuing  each 

The  other,  with  all  lack  of  harmony. 

V 


21  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


THE  LrOBD. 
Homage,  not  censure,  best  beseemeth  thee. 

LUCIFEB. 

Other  than  my  nature,  can  I  not 
Appear;  enough  for  praise,  is  this  mean  host 

(Pointing  toward  the  angels.) 
Of  faithful  ones,  and  it  beseems  them  too, 
Thou    brought'st   them    forth,    as    light   the   shadow 

casts ; 
But  I  have  lived,  from  all  eternity. 

THE  LORD. 

Ha!  shameless  one!  wast  not  of  matter  born? 
Where  was  thy  place,  thy  power,  before  I  was? 

LUCIFEB. 
'Tis  even  this  I  fain  would  ask  of  thee. 

THE  LORD. 

Before  all  time,  it  was  my  plan,  and  lived 
In  me,  that  which  thou  now  accomplished  see'st. 

LUCIFEB. 

Didst  thou  not  ever  feel  a  rift,  a  void; 
A  hindrance  to  thy  mind,  which  still  compelled 
Thee  to  create,  despite  thyself?    The  name 
Of  this  gigantic  rift,  is — Lucifer, 
The  spirit  of  Negation  from  all  time ; 
And  thou  didst  triumph  o'er  me;  thus,  my  fate 
Did  seem,  in  that  great  struggle,  calm  to  yield; 
But  now  with  powers  renewed,  I  rise  again. 
Creating  matter,  thou  didst  give  me  scope, 
Wherever  life  is  found,  there  lurketh  death, 


THE    TRAGEDY  22 

OF    MAN 

And  near  to  happiness,  despondency. 

With  light  the  shadow  dwells;  with  hope,  despair; 

And  where^o'er  thou  art,  there  too  am  I. 

Thus  knowing  thee,  thou  deemest  I  could  praise? 

THE  LOED. 

Begone,  rebellious  spirit,  far  from  me! 
I  could  destroy  thee,  but  'tis  not  my  will. 
For  aye,  thou'rt  banished  from  the  spirit  hosts 
To  battle  with  the  dross,  as  alien  scorned ; 
And  in  thy  never  ending  solitude, 
Thou  shalt  be  tortured  with  th'  undying  thought, 
That  vainly  thou  wilt  shake  thy  chain  of  dust; 
For  'gainst  the  Lord,  thy  strife  can  naught  avail. 

LUCIFEB. 

Not  so!  thus  easily  thou  canst  not  casi 
Me  off,  like  some  mean  tool,  useless  become. 
Together  we  created ;  I  lay  claim 
Now  to  my  part. 

THE  LORD  (scornfully.) 
Then  be  it  as  thou  wilt! 
See!  on  the  earth,  amid  fair  Eden's  trees, 
There  in  the  centre,  rise  two  mighty  ones: 
Henceforth  they  are  accurs'd,  and  they  are  thine. 

LUCIFEB. 

How  niggardly  thou  portionest;  but  thou 
Art  a  great  Lord.    A  foot  of  ground,  for  me, 
Will  serve;  for  whereso'er  Negation's  foot 

Shall  tread,  'twill  bring  destruction  to  thy  world. 

\ 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS. 

Curs'd  spirit,  go,  and  from  His  face  withdraw ! 
Hosafcna,  Lord!  whose  word  gave  us  the  law. 


23  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


SCENE    II. 

(The  Garden  of  Eden.  In  the  centre,  the  tree  of 
knowledge  and  the  tree  of  life.  Adam  and  Eve 
walking,  surrounded  by  all  kinds  of  animals,  fol- 
lowing them  in  affectionate  confidence.  A  halo 
shines  through  the  open  gate  of  Heaven,  and  the 
soft  harmonies  of  the  celestial  choirs  are  heard. 
Bright  daylight.) 

EVE. 

To  live,  to  live!  how  glorious,  how  sweet! 

ADAM. 
And  to  be  lord  of  all  one's  eyes  can  meet. 

EVE. 

To  feel  above  us  all  this  loving  care, 
And  for  it  all,  but  breathe  our  grateful  prayer 
To  him  who  gave  these  joys. 

ADAM. 

I  see  thy  lot 

Dependence  is — I  thirst,  Eve,  see'st  thou  not 
Those  tempting  fruits? 

EVE. 
I'll  pluck  of  them  for  thee. 

THE  LORD. 

Abstain,  abstain!     All  earth  by  my  decree 
Is  yours,  but  those  two  trees,  placed  here  by  me ; 
For  evil  lies  in  their  enticing  fruit, 
And  bitter  death  is  their  one  attribute. 
Sweet  grapes  are  beck'ning  thee  from  yonder  vines '•. 
Now  when  the  midday  sun  most  sultry  shines 
The  cool  and  shady  bower  invites  to  rest. 


THE    TRAGEDY  24 

OP    MAN 


ADAM. 
A  strange  command,  but  grave  seems  the  behest. 

EVE. 

Why  fairer  than  the  rest,  should  be  these  trees? 
Since  all  he  gave,  why  are  forbidden  these? 

ADAM. 

Why  green  the  grass,  why  blue  the  Heaven  above? 
Heed  we  the  mandate;  follow  me,  my  love. 

(They  enter  a  bower.) 
EVE. 

Lean  on  my  breast,  and  I  will  fan  thee,  dear. 
(A  violent  gust  of  wind.     Lucifer  appears  amid  the 
foliage. ) 

ADAM. 

O  woman,  that  strange  sound  did'st  thou  not  hear? 
Unknown  before,  as  if  some  hostile  power 
O'er  us  did  break? 

EVE. 

In  trembling  fear,   I  cower. 
Mute  have  become  the  heavenly  harmonies. 

ADAM. 
Here  on  thy  breast,  I  seem  to  hear  e'en  these. 

EVE. 

And  if  obscured,  the  radiance  on  high, 
I'd  think,  my  love,  to  see  it  in  thine  eye. 
How  could  I  find  it  elsewhere,  but  in  thee, 
Whose  warm  desire  hath  e'en  begotten  me? 
Just  as  the  royal  sun,  with  playful  grace, 
Who  mirrors  on  the  waves  his  radiant  face, — 
Forgets  in  generous  mood  that  which  was  done, 


25  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

That  he  might  not  forever  be  alone, — 

Hia  own  work  was ;  and  when  his  own  rays  fade. 

The  image  fair  dissolves,  which  he  has  made. 

ADAM. 

O  speak  not  so,  Eve,  shame  not  thus  mine  ear! 
For  where  were  sound,  if  there  were  none  to  hear? 
Where  were  the  rays,  if  not  in  glowing  hues 
They  fell?    And  I,  did  I  not  thus  diffuse, 
Like  tone  and  flower,  my  being  too  in  thee, 
In  whom  my  other  self  I  loving  see? 

(A   bird  sings  in  a  neighboring  tree.) 

EVE. 

Adam,  dost  understand  what  it  doth  sing — 
The  love  song  of  that  foolish  little  thing? 

ADAM. 

And  I  was  list'ning  to  the  brooklet's  song — 
The  selfsame  lay,— as  it  did  flow  along. 

LUCIFER. 

Why  do  I  wait?    The  deed  that  I  have  vowed, 
To-day  I'll  carry  out.    I  am  not  cowed ; 
And  yet,  I  hesitate;  myself  I  ask, 
Will  it  fulfill  my  chosen  hellish  task? 
Will  their  desire  for  knowledge,  by  its  stress, 
Have  power  to  rob  them  of  their  happiness? 
Between  them  and  my  plans,  their  hearts'  true  love 
Stands  as  a  guard,  a  gift  from  Him  above. 
And  yet,  why  fear?    Who  dares,  succeeds  alway. 
(Another  gust  of  wind.     Lucifer  appears  before  the 

terrified  human  pair.      Phe  nimbus  is  obscured. 

Lucifer   laughs.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  20 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

At  what  are  ye  amazed? 

(To  Eve,  who  is  about  to  run  away.) 

Fair  woman,  stay ! 
One  moment  let  me  gaze  upon  thy  charms. 

(Eve  stops,  by  degrees  gaining  confidence.) 
(Aside.)  This  type  will  be  a  million  times  renewed. 
(Aloud.)  Thou'rt  frightened,  Adam? 

ADAM. 

By  thee,  thou  monster  vile! 

LUCIFEB  (Aside). 

A  fine  progenitor  for  proud  mankind! 
(Aloud.)     I  give  thee  greeting,  brother  spirit. 

ADAM. 

Who 

Art  thou?    From  above,  or  from  below, 
Dost  come? 

LUCIFEB. 
As  thou  wilt;  to  us  it  is  the  same. 

ADAM. 
I  thought  that  we  alone  did  here  abide. 

LUCIFEB. 

Hoho!  much  else  there  is,  thou  knowest  not, 
And  ne'er  wilt  know.    Think'st  thou  perhaps,  for  this, 
The  holy  sire  created  thee  from  dust, 
That  he  might  share  his  realm  with  thee  alone? 
Thou  praisest  him ;  he  holds  thee  in  his  hand ; 
This,  to  avoid,  commanding;  that,  to  fear. 
He  guides  and  leads  thee  as  he  would  a  lamb, 
So  that  of  reason  thou  hast  never  need. 


27  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Do  I  not  think?  have  I  not  consciousness? 
No  feeling  for  the  blessed  sunshine's  ray, 
The  sweetness  and  the  bliss  of  living  too, 
The  great  and  boundless  mercy  of  my  God, 
Who  maketh  me  a  god  here  on  the  earth? 

LUCIFEB. 

Such  consciousness  the  little  worm  might  feel ; 
The  little  worm  that  eateth  of  thy  fruits ; 
The  eagle,  too,  that  snatches  the  tiny  bird. 
What  elevates  thee,  then,  above  all  these? 
'Tis  but  a  spark  that  lies  within  thy  breast, 
The  feeble  flutt'ring  of  an  endless  power ; 
Like  waves,  that,  for  a  moment,  light  the  stream, 
Then  lose  themselves  again  in  ocean's  gray 
And  misty  depths.    Yes,  thought,  perhaps  might  be, 
That  dormant  lies  within  thy  breast;  knowledge 
To  thee,  it  might  bring,  of  thyself  to  judge 
'Twixt  good  and  ill,  that  thy  fate  thou  might'st  guide, 
And  throw  aside  the  Providence  above. — 
Perhaps  for  thee,  't  were  better,  like  the  dung-worm, 
To  thrive  within  thy  tiny  sphere,  there  soft 
Embedded  lie,  and  without  knowledge  wear 
Thy  life  away.     To  rest  in  our  belief 
Is  sweet;  but  hard,  though  noble  'tis  to  stand 
Alone. 

ADAM. 
These  great  thoughts  make  my  brain  to  reel. 

EVE. 
Their  beauty  and  their  novelty  inspire  me. 


THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFER. 

But  knowledge  of  itself,  were  not  enough: 
Our  great  thoughts  to  embody,  there  must  be 
Immortality.     What  can  this  span 
Of  human  life  achieve? — In  these  two  trees, 
These  wondrous  powers  are  hidden,  but  forbidden 
By  him  who  brought  them  forth.     Of  that,  if  thou 
Dost  eat,  thou  wilt  become  as  wise  as  God; 
And  this  will  bless  thee  with  eternal  youth. 

EVE. 
Cruel  indeed  is  he  who  did  create  us! 

ADAM. 
But  if  thou  dost  deceive? 

(The  nimbus  becomes  brighter.) 

CELESTIAL  CHOIB. 
Woe  to  thee,  world,  beware! 
Negation  old  is  tempting  thee! 

THE  LOBD. 
O  man,  beware,  beware! 

ADAM. 
That  voice  again  I  hear!    Ah,  me! 

LUCIFER. 
The  branches  swaying  in  air ! 

Mankind   to  gain, 
For  our  dark  reign, 
Ghosts  of  my  train, 
Your  help  now  deign! 

(A  gust  of  wind.     The  rainbow  is  obscured.) 
— These  trees  are  mine. 


29  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 
And  who  art  thou,  who  seemest  of  our  kind? 

LUCIFEB. 

Yon  eagle  see,  as  'mid  the  clouds  he  soars; 
The  mole,  as  blind  within  the  earth  he  graves ; 
Each  one,  to  his  own  vision  limited. 
So  hovers  far  beyond  thy  view,  the  realm 
Of  souls,  and  man  to  thee,  the  highest  seems. 
The  dog's  ideal  too,  is  but  a  dog, 
Who  honored  feels  in  his  companionship ; 
But  e'en  as  thou  upon  him  lookest  down, 
So  too,  we  proud  ones  of  the  spirit  world, 
Look  down  upon  the  creatures  of  the  earth. 

ADAM. 
So  then,  of  that  proud  kingdom,  thou  art  one? 

LUCIFEB. 

Yes,  and  'mong  the  great  ones,  mightiest; 
Who  by  the  Lord's  throne,  once  did  stand,  sharing 
In  all  his  greatest  glory  there. 

ADAM. 

Why  then. 

In  that  most  glorious  Heaven  didst  thou  not  stay? 
Why  cam'st  among  us,  to  this  world  of  dust? 

LUCIFEB. 

It  galled  me,  there  to  hold  the  second  place; 
That  life,  monotonous  and  regular, 
Did  fill  me  with  disgust,  with  the  insipid 
Childish  descant  of  the  heavenly  choir, 
Praising  eternally,  both  good  and  bad. 


THE    TRAGEDY  30 

OF    MAN 

I  long  for  strife,  disharmony ;  new  powers, 
New  worlds,  wherein  my  soul,  alone,  its  greatness 
Finds,  and  whither  the  bold  may  follow  me. 

ADAM. 

Our  God  hath  said  that  he  will  punish  us, 
If  other  paths  than  his,  we  choose  to  tread. 

EVE. 

Why  punish?    Surely,  if  the  path  which  we 
Must  tread,  he  hath  marked  out,  hath  he  not  also 
So  created  us,  that  we  might  never 
Be  drawn  away  by  evil  tendencies? 
For  why,  beside  a  deep  abyss,  should  he 
Have  placed  us,  our  destruction  planning  thus? 
And  e'en  if  error  in  his  plan  have  part, 
Like  tempests,  breaking  o'er  the  fairest  day ; 
Who  then  would  say,  that  in  the  driving  storm 
More  evil  lay,  than  in  the  sunshine's  warmth? 

LUCIFER. 

Behold!     The  first  philosopher  appears. 
The  long  line  after  thee,  my  sister  fair, 
In  full  a  million  ways  will  teach  the  same; 
Many  will  be,  whose  road  to  madness  leads, 
And  many  retreat,  affright;  none  reach  the  goal. 
So  give  your  reasoning  o'er,  for  ev'rything 
Contains  so  many  shades,  that  he  who  long 
Contemplates  them,  knows  in  the  end  far  less 
Than  at  the  first  swift  glance,  and  reaches  ne'er 
The  goal ;  for  reasoning  is  action's  death. 

EVE. 
To  pluck  the  fruit  then  I  am  free? 


31  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 
The  curse  of  God  is  on  the  tree ! 

(Lucifer  laughs.) 

But  pluck  it,  bring  it  weal  or  woe. 
Like  God,  we  all  things  fain  would  know ; 
(From  the  tree  of  knowledge  Eve  plucks  an  apple, 
first  tasting  it  herself,  then  giving  it  to  Adam.) 

EVE. 
Forever  young  to  be ! 

LUCIFER. 

Be  quick,  come,  follow  me! 
The  fruit  of  yonder  tree, 
Gives  immortality. 

(He  leads  them  to  the  other  tree,  where  a  cherub, 
with  flaming  sword,  guards  the  way.) 

CHERUB. 
Sinners,  begone!    Ye  have  betrayed  His  trust. 

THE  LORD. 

Adam,  Adam,  thou  hast  forsaken  me; 
To  thine  own  weakness,  I  abandon  thee. 

EVE. 
Woe  unto  us,  we're  lost!     It  is  unjust. 

LUCIFER. 
Are  ye  afraid? 

ADAM. 

No,  no.    I  only  shake 
The  thraldom  off,  and  now  I  am  awake. 
Away,  my  spouse ;  let's  go,  whitherso'er ! 
This  place  is  strange  become,  gloomy  and  bare. 


THE    TRAGEDY  32 

OF    MAN 


CELESTIAL  CHOIB. 

Victorious  lie  its  banner  hath  unfurled. 
Bemoan  our  brother's  fall ;  lost  is  the  world ! 


SCENE    III. 

(Magnificent  landscape  outside  of  Eden.  A  little  rude 
log  hut.  Adam  driving  posts  for  a  fence.  Eve 
erecting  a  bower.  Lucifer.) 

ADAM. 

This  is  all  mine ;  instead  of  the  great  world, 
This  spot  will  be  my  home.    It  is  my  own : 
I  guard  it  from  the  wild,  devouring  beasts, 
Compelling  it  in  turn,  to  nourish  me. 

EVE. 

A  bower  I  make,  just  like  that  other  one ; 
Thus  now  before  us,  I  can  conjure  up 
The  Eden  lost. 

LUCIFEB. 

Ah !  what  great  words  ye  speak ! 
Possessions,  family;  twofold  incentive 
Of  the  world,  the  source  of  all  its  joys 
And  griefs,  for  these  ideas  great  will  grow 
And  grow  unceasingly,  until  from  them 
Great  industries  and  nations  will  arise. 
Begetters  too,  they'll  be  of  all  things  great 
And  noble,  though  devourers  of  their  offspring — 

ADAM. 

Thou  speak'st  in  riddles;  but  'twas  knowledge  thorn 
Did'st  promise  me.     I  sacrificed  my  bliss, 


33  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

That  e'en  in  striving,  still  I  might  be  great. 
And  what  is  my  reward? 

LUCIFER. 

Thou  feel'st  it  not? 

ADAM. 

I  feel  that  as  God  has  abandoned  me 
With  empty  hands  into  the  desert  casting, 
So  him  have  I  abandoned.     To  myself 
A  god  I'll  be,  and  that  for  which  I  strive 
Will  be  my  own.     This  gives  me  strength  and  pride. 

LUCIFER   (Aside). 

Vain  wight!  thou  blowest  bubbles  to  the  skiee; 
We'll  test  thy  heart,  when  thunders  mutter  deep. 

EVE. 

I  too,  feel  naught  but  pride  within  me,  for 
'Tis  I  who'll  be  the  mother  of  the  race. 

LUCIFER  (Aside). 

Ideal  worthy  of  the  woman's  heart! 
Perpetuating  sin  and  misery. 

ADAM. 

Why  should  I  grateful  be  to  Him?    For  living? 
If  life  indeed  outweigh  its  sordid  cares, 
'Tis  of  my  own  endeavors  but  the  fruit. 
The  ecstacy  a  cooling  draught  doth  give, 
With  pangs  of  burning  thirst  must  first  be  earned ; 
The  price  of  honeyed  kisses  too,  is  pain 
Of  longing,  then  satiety ;  but  now 
I'm  free  from  all  these  ties  of  gratitude, 
My  own  fate  to  build  up  and  to  destroy, 


THE    TRAGEDY  34 

OF    MAN 

Manipulating  that  which   I   have  planned, — 

Perhaps  for  this  I  did  not  need  thine  aid, 

For  my  own  strength  and  will  had  well  sufficed. 

Thou'st  not  unloosed  me  from  the  pond'rous  gyves 

Which  to  the  earth  my  body  still  enchain. 

I  feel — I  know  not  what — so  subtle  't  is ; 

It  may  be  but  a  hair — more  is  the  shame — 

Which  holds  my  soul  in  doubt,  and  in  suspense; 

Behold,  I  fain  would  soar,  my  body  fails ; 

Both  eye  and  ear  the  service  high  reject 

If  mysteries  of  space  I  would  espy : 

And  when  in  fancy's  flight  I'm  borne  aloft, 

From  hunger,  cow'ringly  I  sink  again, 

Unto  vile  matter  which  my  essence  is. 

LUCIFEE. 
These  chains  are  even  stronger  than  myself. 

ADAM. 

Then  thou'rt  a  feeble  spirit  if  this  web 
Invisible,  this  null,  of  which  the  millions 
Have  no  consciousness,  but  with  a  sense 
Of  liberty,  therein  they  revel, 
Defy  thee,  though  it  is  not  dreamed  of,  save 
By  some  superior,  enlightened  souls. 

LUCIFEB. 

And  it  is  this  alone  which  can  defy  me; 
For  it  is  spirit,  like  myself.    Thou  think'st 
Because  a  power  works  noiseless  and  concealed 
It  hath  not  force?    Not  so,  in  shadow  lies 
That  power,  which  shatters  or  creates  a  world; 
For  sight  of  it  would  cause  the  brain  to  reel. 
'Tis  but  the  work  of  man,  which  roars  and  glitters, 
Whose  limit  in  this  human  life  is  reached. 


35  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Ob!   let  me  contemplate  these  workings   great 
One  moment  only — strength  my  bosom  fills, — 
That  power  which  moveth,  and  by  which  I  am 
Enthralled,  although  a  perfect  whole  am  I. 

LUCIFEB. 

"  Am !  "     Senseless  word !     Thou  wast ;  thou  wilt  be  ; 
For  life  is  either  crescent,  of  in  decay. 
But  look  about  thee!     View  with  spirit  eyes! 
(As  the  last  words  are  spoken,  all  becomes  visible.) 

ADAM. 

What  flood  is  this  which  bursts  here  on  my  sight, 
So  madly  pressing  onward  to  the  height? 
Parting  in  twain,  like  to  the  storm  wind  fleet 
It  rushes  to  the  distant  poles. 

LUCIFEB. 

'Tis  heat, 
Which  to  the  icy  regions  giveth  life. 

ADAM. 

And  these  two  streams  of  flame,  with  horrors  rife. 
Which  at  my  side  are  whirling  swiftly  by? 
They  wellnigh  crush  me,  yet  methinks  that  I 
Can  feel  their  touch;  how  it  doth  vivify! 
Ah!  what  is  this,  that  so  doth  terrify? 

LUCIFEE. 
It  is  the  magnet 

ADAM. 

'Neath  me  sways  the  ground; 
All  that  erstwhile  was  formless,  firm  and  bound. 


THE    TRAGEDY  36 

OF    MAN 

Now  seething  matter  hath  become,  and  strife 

Arises  now  for  form  and  breathing  life ; 

As  crystal  glistening   and   shining  here, 

As  blossom  yonder  to  burst  forth.    In  fear 

I  ask,  Oh!  'mid  this  chaos,  where  will  be 

My  pent-up  individuality? 

What  of  this  earthly  shell,  in  which,  O  fool, 

I  placed  my  faith,   as  in  a  potent  tool? 

Wherewith  my  aspirations  once  I  thought 

To  realize. — Deluded  child,  to  naught 

Thou'lt  shrink,  who  for  me  joys  and  woes  dost  reap, 

And  some  time  be  reduced  to  a  mean  heap 

Of  dust,  then  into  other  forms  resolve : 

Perchance  a  vapor  to  a  cloud  dissolved, 

Evaporating  when  its  course  is  run. 

Each  word  of  mine,  each  thought  my  brain  has  spun, 

Consuming,  part  by  part,  this  form  of  mine ; 

And  this  devouring  fire,  the  fell  design  , 

Of  some  mysterious  spirit  dark,  that  fans 

The  flame,  as  gleeful  he  my  ashes  scans. 

Away  with  this  dread  sight,  away !     I  feel 

That  e'en  my  reason  now  doth  wane  and  reel. 

While  crushed  with  loneliness,  amid  this  strife 

Of  all  these  elements,  that  teem  with  life. 

How  terrible!     Why  did  I  cast  away, 

That  Providence,  to  which  in  wild  dismay 

I  turn ;  which   instinct  felt,  though  could  not  prize 

My  wisdom  yearns  again  to  realize. 

EVE. 

Like  to  thine  own,  are  the  feelings  of  my  heart, 
Whether  I  see  thee  struggling  with  wild  beasts, 
Or  wearily  I  tend  our  little  garden, 
I  look  around  me,  o'er  the  wide,  wide  world; 
On  dearth,  in  heaven,  no  kindred  near  I  see ; 


37  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Not  e'en  one  friend,  to  guard  and  cheer  us  now. 
Ah!  in  that  fairer  time,  it  was  not  so. 

LUCIFEB   (scornfully). 

If  then  ye  are  such  childish,  trivial  souls, 
Chilling,  without  some  warm,  protecting  hand; 
If  of  dependence  ye  have  such  sore  need ; 
I  will  call  forth  for  you  a  god,  whom  ye 
Will  find  more  smiling  than  your  rigid  sire: 
The  Spirit  of  the  Earth.    I  knew  him  there, 
The  modest  youth,  in  the  celestial  choir. 

Earth  Spirit,  I  command 

Come!  thou  can'st  not  withstand 

The  soul  that  e'er  denies, 

Thee  dares,  and  thee  defies. 

(Flames  leap  out  of  the  earth.     Heavy  Hack  clouds 
and  <a  rainbow  appear.  Terrific  peals  of  thunder.) 

LUCIFER. 

Who  art  thou,  spectre?    Thee  did  I  not  call. 
The  guardian  of  the  earth  is  tender,  frail. 

EABTH  SPIEIT. 

He  who  in  the  celestial  choir  seemed  frail, 
Is  infinite  and  strong  in  his  own  sphere. 
But  at  command  of  spirit  I  appear, 
For  that  I  must  obey,  I  dare  not  fail. 
Mark  well !  no  other  acts  can'st  thou  inspire. 
Could'st  thou  see  my  face,  thy  fate  were  dire, 
And  these  two  worms  would  perish  in  their  fear. 

LUCIFEB. 

How  can  man  thy  proud  presence  reach,  if  he 
Resolved  that  henceforth  thou  his  god  shalt  be? 


THE    TRAGEDY  38 

OF    MAN 


EABTH  SPIBIT. 

In  clouds,  in  groves  and  in  the  seas, 
All  that  to  him  brings  bliss  and  ease. 

(Disappears.) 
(The  valley  is  populated  with  dancing  nymphs.) 

EVE. 

Ah!   see,   these  kindred   faces   here 
See!     See!  how  smiling  they  appear! 
No  more  abandoned,  no  more  alone, 
And  happiness,  before  unknown, 
They  bring,  for  they  can  sympathize, 
And  in  our  doubts,  give  counsel  wise. 

LUCIFER. 

And  ye  could  ask  no  better  than  these  elves 
So  dear,  who  e'er  advise  what  ye  yourselves 
Desire,  in  questioning  betrayed;  they  seem 
All  smiling  unto  guileless  hearts,  but  teem 
With  terror  to  the  lost.     In  many  a  form, 
In  myriad  guise,  about  you  they  will  swarm ; 
Unto  the  savant  bring  the  longed  for  goal, 
And  its  ideal  to  the  youthful  soul. 

ADAM. 

But  what  avails  this  vain  and  glittering  show 
I  here  behold?  for  nothing  do  I  know. 
One  more  enigma  now  doth  bother  me, 
Delay  not,  Lucifer,  but  hear  my  plea ! 

LUCIFER   (aside). 

This  knowledge  will  bring  bitterness  one  day ; 
And  thou  wilt  long  for  thy  lost  ignorance. 
I 


39  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


(Aloud.) 

Have  patience,  for  thou  know'st,  each  moment's  bliss, 
With  struggles  thou  must  ever  earn ;  so  thou 
Through  many  schools  must  pass  and  errors  too, 
Before  thou  knowest  all. 

ADAM. 

How  easy  'tis 

To  speak  of  patience,  with  eternity 
Spread  out  before  thee?  but  I  did  not  eat 
Of  the  tree  of  life,  therefore  this  little  span 
Of  human  life  doth  warn  me  to  make  haste. 

LUCIFER. 

To  all  that  lives,  the  span  is  but  the  same. 
The  hoary  trees,  th'  unseen  ephemera ; 
They  live,  rejoice,  they  love,  and  pass  away, 
Till  run  their  course,  their  instincts  satisfied. 
Time  ceaseth  not :  we  change ;  a  century — 
A  day; — the  end  is  but  the  same.    Fear  not: 
Thou'lt  reach  the  goal,  but  think  not  that  this  clay 
Shuts  in  man's  individuality. 
Look  at  the  ant,  the  swarming  bees,  with  all 
The  senseless  chaos  of  their  myriad  works ; 
How  blind  they  strive  and  roam,  to  sink  at  last 
In  death ;  but  as  a  solid  mass,  they  live, 
Together  live  and  strive,  with  but  one  soul, 
Accomplishing  their  being's  destiny, 
Till  comes  the  end,  when  all  shall  cease  at  once. 
So  shall  thy  dust  be  scattered  far,  but  thou 
In  a  hundred  forms  shalt  live  again,  and  naught 
Need'st  thou  begin  anewr.     For  all  thy  sins 
The  son  must  penance  do ;  to  him,  thy  gout 
Dost  thou  transmit,  thy  life's  experience, 


THE    TRAGEDY  40 

OF    MAN 

All  thy  sensations  and  thy  learning,  all, 
For  aeons,  shall  thine  own  possession  be. 

ADAM. 

Unto  the  aged,  leave  this  retrospection. 
With  other  aims  my  youthful  breast  doth  burn! 
Vouchsafe  a  glimpse  into  my  future ;  show 
Wherefore  I  suffer,  and  wherefore  I  must  strive. 

EVE. 

And  let  me  see,  if  in  this  changing  life, 
My  charms  shall  ever  perish  or  decay. 

LUCIFER. 

So  be  it!     Let  magic  enfold 
You  twain,  so  that  ye  may  behold, 
In  the  fleeting  scenes  of  a  dream 
Your  fate,  that  with  struggles  doth  teem, 
And  trivial  aims.     That  despair, 
May  never  possess  you,  a  fair 
And  tenuous,  shimmering  ray 
Shall  shine  o'er  the  toilsome  way ; 
And  this  faint  light — now  to  ope 
The  road  delusive,  is — hope ! 

(Leads  Adam  and  Eve  into  the  hut,  where  he  causes 
them  to  fall  asleep.) 


41  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


SCENE    IV. 

(Egypt.  Open  halls  in  the  foreground.  Adam  as 
Pharaoh  in  his  youth,  on  a  throne.  Lucifer  as  his 
minister.  A  brilliant  retinue  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance. In  the  background,  slaves  are  engaged  in 
building  a  pyramid;  overseers,  with  straps  in 
their  hands  drive  them  to  their  work.  Bright 
daylight. ) 

LUCIFER. 

0  Royal  Sire,  with  sorrow  asks  thy  land, — 
Which  e'er  to  die  for  thee,  doth  ready  stand; — 
Why  is  it,  that  her  mighty  Pharaoh, 

Upon  his  cushioned  throne  no  rest  can  know? 

Why  yieldest  thou  the  blessings  of  the  day, 

And  why  the  night's  sweet  dreamland  fancies'  play, 

Why  leav'st  thou  not  to  servitors,  the  care 

Of  executing  thy  great  plans?  for  share 

Can  no  one  in  thy  universal  might, 

And  is  not  thine  all  pleasure  and  delight? 

An  hundred  lands  their  treasures  yield  to  thee ; 

Each  fragrant  flower,  the  fruit  of  every  tree 

Is  thine ;  for  thee,  a  thousand  bosoms  sigh : 

The  beauty  fair,  with  languishing  blue  eye, 

Like  to  some  sportive  elf's,  her  slender  form ; 

The  dusky  maid,  with  panting  lips,  so  warm, 

And  burning  eyes,  mad  passion  that  betray ; 

All  are  thine  own ;  with  their  fate  thou  can'st  play ; 

Each  feels  she  hath  fulfilled  her  humble  lot, 

If  to  thy  bliss  she  hath  vouchsafed  one  jot. 

ADAM. 
But  of  all  these,  not  one  can  touch  my  heart. 

1  do  not  strive  for  them ;  they  are  but  part 
Of  that  thy  power  secured,  and  not  my  own. 


THE    TRAGEDY  42 

OF    MAN 

But  now,  creating  this  great  work  of  stone, 
I  feel  I've  found  the  path  which  leads  me  on 
To  real  greatness.     That  which  shall  be  done, 
This  work  of  art,  e'en  nature  will  outdo ; 
And  centuries  its  wonders  yet  will  view 
And  throughout  ages  herald  my  renown. 
No  hurricane  will  ever  tear  it  down, 
No  earthquake  e'er  uproot  it,  for  man  now, 
In  strength,  e'en  to  his  God,  cares  not  to  bow. 

LUCIFEB. 

And  yet,  Oh!  Pharaoh,  art  happy  thou, 
In  this  thy  fancy's  flight?     The  truth  avow ! 

ADAM. 

Not  I.     A  void  unspeakable  I  feel ; 
Toward  glory  only  do  I  bend  my  zeal. 
But  what  of  that,  for  bliss  is  not  my  goal ; 
My  name  will  yet  appear  on  fame's  proud  roll, 
But  let  the  herd  know  not  the  pain  I  feel, 
For  pity  would  from  adoration  steal. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  then,  if  thou  in  time  should'st  ever  see, 
That  glory  is  but  hollow  mockery? 

ADAM. 
It  cannot  be. 

LUCIFER. 
But  if  so? 

ADAM. 

I  would  die, 
Cursing  the  world  which  I  could  thus  defy. 

* 


43  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

Thou  wilt  not  die,  but  ever  undergo 

The  same  experience,  and  all  thy  woe. 

(The  overseers  whip  one  of  the  slaves  so  mercilessly 

that  he  runs  screaming  with  pain  to  the  front, 

into  tlie  hall,  where  he  sinks  down  before  the 

throne. ) 

THE  SLAVE. 
Help,  Majesty! 
(Eve,   as   the   slave's   wife,    tears    herself   from   the 

crowd,  and  sobbing  piteously,  throws  herself  upon 

her  husband.) 

EVE. 

Thou  dost  appeal  in  vain; 
For  he  who  never  shared  our  grief  and  pain, 
Ne'er  comprehends. — The  ruler's  throne  is  high, 
And  sorrow's  voice  is  low ;  but  do  not  I 
Thy  body  shield,  the  lashes  on  mine  own 
Receiving? 

ADAM. 
(To  the  overseers,  who  attempt  to  drag  the  slave  and 

his  wife  away.) 
Away  from  here!     Leave  them  alone! 

(The  overseers  all  retire.) 
What  strange  emotion  creeps  into  my  heart? 
Who  is  this  woman,  what  her  charm — or  art, 
By  which,  as  with  a  chain,  the  mighty  king, 
Down  to  her  humble  level,  she  doth  bring? 

LUCIFEB. 

This  is  another  of  those  subtle  threads, 
Thy  Lord  disdainfully  about  thee  weaves. 
To  rouse  in  thee  the  consciousness  of  this, 
Thy  chrysalis  existence,  when  thou  seekst, — 


THE    TRAGEDY  44 

OF    MAN 

In  thy  delusion — like  the  butterfly 
To  soar.    Thou'st  seen  the  power  of  this  frail  thread ; 
It  slips  from  out  our  grasp,  and  for  this  reason 
I'm  powerless  to  destroy  it 

ADAM. 
(Descending  the  steps  of  the  throne.) 

Attempt  it  not. 
It  is  not  ill,  although  it  presseth  sore. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  it  beseemeth  not  a  king  and  sage 
To  groan  beneath  it. 

ADAM. 
What  then,  can  I  do? 

LUCIFEE. 

There's  nothing  left  but  science,  which  denies 
The  whole  existence  of  these  occult  threads, 
Which  force  and  matter  jeeringly  deride. 

ADAM. 
I  neither  can  deride  them,  nor  deny. 

EVE. 

Ah!  dear  one,  how  thy  blood  doth  flow;  let  me 
Quench  it  a  little.    Ah !  and  is  thy  pain  so  great? 

SLAVE. 

It  is  only  life  that  pains  me,  soon 
All  will  be  o'er. 

EVE. 

Not  so  !     Not  so  !  for  why 
Didv'st  live  at  all,  if  so,  thou  now  must  die? 


45  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


SLAVE. 

What  right  have  slaves  to  live?    To  carry  stones 
For  pyramids,  planned  by  great  kings  on  thrones, 
Bear  children  for  the  yoke  that  was  their  own, 
Then  die, — a  million  for  one  man,  alone. 

ADAM. 
Ah!  Lucifer,  what  mean  these  dreadful  words? 

LUCIFEB. 
Delirious  ravings  of  a  dying  man ! 

ADAM. 
What  does  he  say? 

LUCIFEB. 

Great  Pharaoh,  to  thee 
'Tis  naught;  and  yet  it  is  of  consequence: 
The  earth  is  cumbered  with  just  one  slave  less. 

EVE. 

Ah !  naught  to  thee,  but  all  the  world  to  me, 
Woe!  Woe!  who  now  will  love  me  tenderly? 

SLAVE. 
No  longer  I ;  forget  me,  wife — for  aye ! 

(Dies.) 

ADAM. 

Thou  shalt  be  mine. — The  dead  man  bear  away. 
My  lady,  rise!    Upon  my  cushioned  throne 
Is  now  thy  place;  I'm  king  of  power  alone; 
But  queen  of  beauty  thou — and  thou  and  I 
Were  destined  now  to  meet,  beneath  the  sky. 


THE    TRAGEDY  46 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

Thy  wish  is  law  to  me,  great  Pharaoh; 
Our  fate  lies  but  in  thy  commands,  I  know, 
Nor  do  I  seek  escape ;  but  now  alone 
Leave  me  a  while,  and  then  command  thine  own. 

ADAM. 

No  more  that  word.    Oh!  can  it,  can  it  be, 
That  in  commands  doth  lie  my  sov'reignty? 

EVE. 

Enough,  that  thy  command,  in  this  first  hour, 
Gives  me  no  pain,  as  o'er  my  spouse  I  shower 
My  bitter  tears.    Then  envy  not  the  dead 
O'er  whom — in  death  still  beautiful — they're  shed. 

(Falls  upon  him.) 

ADAM. 

"  Fair  "   and   "  dead !  "—What   contrariety ! 
This  peace  doth  bring  reproach  on  all  our  strivings, 
And  pityingly  mocks  our  vanity. 

LUCIFEK. 

The  liberated  slave,  who  scornful  says, 

"  E'en  stronger  than  thy  chains,  have  I  become !  " 

ADAM. 

Peace  to  the  dead,  and  to  the  living,  bliss! 
He  feeleth  not  thy  tears,  but  to  forego 
Thy  smile,  is  pain  to  me. 

(They  carry  the  dead  man  away.     Adam  leads  Eve 
to  the  throne.) 

Here,  at  my  side, 


47  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

(Lamentations  are  heard  among  the  workmen.    Eve 
swoons. ) 

What  is  it,  love? 

EVE. 

Oh!  dost  not  hear 
The  people's  cries? 

ADAM. 

It  is  but  now,  I  hear. 
'Tis  no  sweet  music,  sure,  but  listen  not! 
And  in  my  kisses  be  the  world  forgot. 
(To  Lucifer)     Can'st  thou  not  stop  these  lamenta- 
tions wild? 

LUCIFER. 

I  cannot;  'tis  the  people's  right;  that  right 
Which  with  their  yoke,  they  have  inherited. 
(Another  cry  of  grief.  Eve  softs  aloud.  Adam  rises.) 

ADAM. 

Thou  sufferest,  my  lady,  yet  I  know 
No  help  to  give.    Thy  own  heart's  awful  woe 
Like  light'ning  strikes  my  brain,  and  now  I  feel 
As  if  to  me  the  whole  world  did  appeal. 

EVE. 

Oh,  Pharaoh!  destroy  me,  but  forgive, 
If  to  their  cry,  my  heart  is  sensitive. 
I  know  full  well  that  I  am  but  thy  slave, 
That  all  my  aim  in  life,  until  the  grave, 
Must  be  to  please,  and  to  please  thee  alone. 
I  cheerfully  forget  all  I  have  known: 
Sorrows  and  joys,  love  dreams,  all,  all ;  and  I 
Do  e'en  forget  my  dead,  to  gratify 
But  thee;  that  passionate  be  my  love  sigh; 
That  burning  lips,  with  kiss  to  kiss  reply ; 


THE    TRAGEDY  48 

OF    MAN 

But  when  this  being  multiform,  without — 
Lashed  on  its  back  with  whips — in  pain  doth  shout, 
Then  I,  an  atom  of  that  body,  smart 
With  all  its  agony,  e'en  to  my  heart. 

ADAM. 

I  feel  it  too—"  A  million  for  the  one." 
So  hath  the  dead  man  said. 

EVE. 

What  have  I  done, 

Great  Pharaoh,  that  thou'rt  so  sad  become? 
Drive  me  away,  or  teach  me  to  be  dumb, 
As  well  as  deaf. 

ADAM. 

Beloved,  no !  in  naught 

Hast  failed;  a  better  teacher  thou,  who'st  taught 
Me  to  hear  sorrow's  tones ;  and  now  no  more 
Shall  they  resound  on  earth,  for  I  abhor 
Henceforth,  that  fame,  which  is  but  one  man's  share, 
And  for  which  men,  e'en  million  wise,  must  bear 
The  yoke  of  woe.    The  bliss,  for  one,  I  feel, 
But  a  million  cries,  to  me  in  pain  appeal. 

LTICIFEB. 

O  Pharaoh,  thou  dreamest!     Certain  't  is, 
That  fate  the  herd  has  destined  to  the  work, 
As  beasts  of  burden,  to  tread  the  mill,  at  each 
Command;   for  that  they  were  created.     Give 
To  them  their  liberty,  to-day;  but  that 
Which  thou  dost  sacrifice,  will  be  no  gain 
To  them.    To-morrow,  a  new  master,  they 
Will  seek,  for  thinkest  thou  could'st  override 
The  herd,  felt  it  no  need  of  sov'reignty, 
If  consciousness  within  its  bosom  dwelt? 


49  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Why  then  do  they  lament,  as  if  to  them 
Their  servitude  were  pain? 

LUCIFEB. 
They  suffer,  but 

They  know  not  why ;  for  ev'ry  creature  longs 
For  mastery;  and  this  alone,  it  is, 
And  not  fraternity,  that  draws  the  crowd 
Round  freedom's  standard;  though  to  consciousness 
They  never  wake,  but  a  presentiment 
Or  something  new  to  come,  an  overthrowal 
Of  established  laws,  impelleth  them, 
And  't  is  this  hope,  embodied  in  their  dreams 
Of  happiness,  they  view. — The  populace 
Is  a  deep  sea,  whose  under-waters  dark, 
The  sunshine  can  not  penetrate;  the  wave, 
Alone,  doth  sparkle  and  reflect  the  light, — 
And  even  thou  dost  chance  to  be  this  wave. 

ADAM. 
And  why  just  It 

LUCIFEB. 

Or  other,  like  to  thee, 
In  whom  once  patriotism  is  aroused, 
As  freedom's  champion  adored,  doth  dare 
Approach  thine  own  illustrious  place.     The  herd 
Doth  nothing  gain ;  naught  but  its  name  is  changed, 
While  the  tyrant  still  remains. 

ADAM. 

Endless 

Is  the  circle  of  thy  reasoning, 
From  which  perhaps,  there  may  be  no  escape. 


THE    TRAGEDY  50 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

There  is  escape.     Choose  but  a  few ;  load  them 
With  gold  and  jewels  and  other  toys;  place  them 
Above  the  masses ;  say  thou  hold'st  them  nobler, 
Thy  word  believing,  the  people  they  will  scorn, 
Enduring,  in  their  turn,  thy  scorn  of  them. 

ADAM. 

No  more  of  thy  misleading  sophistries! 
Away  with  slaves !  let  every  one  be  free ! 
Proclaim  to  them  their  freedom ;  but  make  haste, 
Less  I  should  rue  it,  and  't  would  be  too  late. 

LUCIFER   (Aside). 

Thou  thinkest  forward,  of  thyself,  to  move, 
When  thou  art  borne  but  by  the  flood  of  fate. 

(Exit.) 
ADAM. 

This  work  will  stand  forever  incomplete; 
A  warning  ruin,  to  all  those,  whose  plans 
Are  great  and  high,  a  mighty  question-mark 
Forever  to  our  potency,   and  frailty. 
(Workmen    are     heard    talking    joyfully,     without* 

Lucifer  returns.) 

Rejoice  ye  slaves  that  greatness  bows  to  thee! 
But  ne'er  believe,  that  I  could  be  constrained. 

EVE. 

Console  thyself,  O  thou  my  own  beloved! 
What  cometh  of  this  glory,  lone  and  drear — 
A  clammy  serpent  that  between  us  creeps? 

ADAM. 
But    still,    how   great! 


51  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

Away  with  it!     They  weep 
No  more;  their  cries  no  longer  rend  our  ears. 
Upon  my  breast,  what  more  could'st  thou  desire? 

ADAM. 

O  woman,  narrow  thy  horizon  is, 
But  it  is  just  for  this  man  gives  life's  meed 
To  thee.     The  strong  must  ever  love  the  weak; 
The  suckling,  helpless  in  its  mother's  arms, 
Is  loved  more  tenderly  than  all  the  rest. 

EVE. 

Ah,  Pharaoh!  perhaps  thus  soon,  my  vain 
And  foolish  chatter  wearies  thee.     Alas! 
How  were  it  otherwise?    I  am  not  learned. 

ADAM. 

Nor  need  thou  wish  for  wisdom,  my  dear  one ; 
For  mind  sufficient,  in  myself  I  find, 
'T  is  not  for  power  or  greatness  that  I  lean 
Upon  thy  breast,  nor  e'en  for  wisdom ;  that 
Far  better  with  my  books  I  can  achieve. 
Speak,  only  speak,  that  I  may  hear  thy  voice, 
That  it  may  flood  my  heart  with  melody. 
Say  what  thou  wilt,  for  oh !  who  e'er  doth  ask 
The  meaning  of  the  bird's  song?  but  we  list 
In  rapture,  when  we  hear  his  tuneful  lay. 
Be  but  a  flower,  a  costly  gem,  useless, 
Though  beautiful,  for  that  beseems  thee  well. 
(To  Lucifer.) 

Another  wish  wakes  in  this  heart  of  stone, 
A  foolish  wish  perhaps — but  grant  it  me ; 
A  bold  glance  in  the  future,  let  me  cast, 


THE    TRAGEDY  52 

OF    MAN 

A  couple  of  thousand  years  from  now.     I  fain 
Would  see  what  of  my  fame  will  then  remain. 

LUCIFEB. 

While  thou'rt  giving  kiss  for  kiss, 
Dost  thou  not  feel  the  tepid  breeze, 
That  gently  fans  thy  burning  cheeks, 
And  then  away  as  gently,  flees? 
An  atom  of  the  dust  it  blows, 
Which  in  a  year  an  inch  hath  grown, 
A  few  feet  in  a  century; 
When  a  few  thousand  years  have  flown 
The  pyramids  will  be  entombed 
And  thy  great  name  be  buried  low 
'Neath  heaps  of  sand;  and  then,  where  lie 
Thy  fairest  pleasure  gardens  now, 
Jackals  will  claim  their  beastly  reign, 
Which  with  their  howling  will  resound 
And,  on  the  desert  plain  encamped, 
A  servile  beggar-race  be  found. 

(As  Lucifer  speaks,  all  becomes  visible.) 

And  that  which  Heaven-rending  storm, 
And  earthquake  cannot  bring  about, 
By  the  caressing,   gentle  breeze 
In  its  calm,  silent  course  is  wrought. 

ADAM. 
A  frightful  picture! 

LUCIFEB   ( Mockingly. ) 

Ye  need  have  no  fear, 
Thy  soul  alone  is  lost;  thy  body  here 
Remains,  a  mummy ;  and  in  times  to  come 
The  wonder  of  all  schoolboys  who  would  know 


53  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

What  mystic,  half-effaced  inscriptions  show: 
If  it  had  been  a  King  or  but  a  slave. 
(A  Mummy  stalks  out,  appearing  before  the  throne, 
then  slowly  going  down  the  steps.) 

ADAM    (Springing  up.) 
Infernal  vision,  monstrous  thing,  begone! 
Ambition  and  conceit  henceforth  I  shun. 
Still  in  my  ear,  rings  "  Millions  for  the  one." 
So  to  these  millions  then,  be  justice  done 
In  a  free  state,  for  else  it  cannot  be: 
The  one  must  perish,  if  mankind  be  free; 
And  it  is  for  the  common  weal  I  yearn. 

EVE. 
And  me  too,  lea  vest  thou,  from  me  dost  turn? 

ADAM. 

All!     Thee,  the  throne,  all,  must  I  leave. 
Lead  on,  O  Lucifer,  I  did  deceive 
Myself;  too  long  in  error's  path  did  roam. 

EVE. 

My  King,  if  e'er  with  shattered  hopes  thou  fain 
Would'st  solace  find,  come  to  my  heart  again. 

ADAM. 

Ay!  Ay!  I  do  believe  that  we  shall  meet; 
Then  in  some  nobler  guise  I  thee  shall  greet ; 
And  thou  wilt  love  me,  not  at  my  command, 
But  as  my  peer,  with  passion  strong  and  grand. 

LUCIFEB. 

Not  so  precipitate ;  thou'lt  reach  the  goal, 
And  when  't  is  gained,  thy  now  impatient  soul, 


THE    TRAGEDY  54 

OF    MAN 

With  anguish  will  bemoan  the  loss  sustained; 
While  I  shall  laugh  at  thee,  for  what  I've  gained. 


SCENE  V. 

(Athens.  The  market  place.  In  the  centre,  the 
tribune.  At  one  side  of  the  foreground  an  open 
corridor  of  the  temple  with  its  statues  of  the 
Gods,  garlands  of  flowers  and  altars. 

(Eve  as  Lucia,  wife  of  the  general  Miltiades,  with 
her  son  Cimon,  attended  by  several  servants, 
bearing  offerings  for  sacrifice,  goes  up  to  the 
corridor  of  the  temple.  A  beggarly  throng  surg- 
ing about.  Bright  morning.) 

EVE. 

This  way,  this  way,  beloved  litle  son! 
See,  yonder  sailed  thy  sire,  with  swiftest  fleet, 
To  battle  on  the  realm's  remote  confines, 
Where  dwells  a  savage  race,  which  boldly  dares 
The  freedom  of  our  native  land  to  menace. 
So  let  us  pray,  O,  let  us  pray,  my  son, 
That  Heaven  protect  our  native  country's  rights, 
And  thy  brave  father  bring  again  to  us. 

CIMON. 

Why  does  my  father  thus  in  distant  lands 
Fight  to  defend  this  dastard  beggar  race, 
While  his  fair  spouse  laments  and  pines  at  home? 

EVE. 

Ah!  thy  good  father  mayest  thou  not  judge, 
For  such  a  child  is  cursed  of  the  gods, 
It  is  ^the  right  but  of  the  loving  spouse 


55  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

To  grieve  and  murmur  at  his  course,  though  if 
He  did  not  thus,  it  is  she  would  feel  the  shame. 
Thy  father's  acts  beseem  him,  as  a  man. 

CIMON. 
Fear'st  mother,  he  may  weaken  and  surrender? 

EVE. 

No,  no,  my  son ;  Thy  valiant  sire  will  win ; 
One  thing  alone,  there  is  which  I  might  fear; 
He  may  not  triumph  o'er  himself. 

CIMON. 

How  so? 

EVE. 

A  mighty  word  within  the  soul  exists— 
Ambition!     Dormant  in  the  slave  it  lies, 
Or  in  his  narrow  sphere  becomes  a  crime, 
Though,   when   't  is  roused,  doth  fill   his  whole  ex- 
istence, 

But  nourished  with  the  blood  of  liberty, 
It  grows  to  civic  virtue  brightly  glowing, 
Which  calleth  into  being  all  things  great 
And  beautiful ;  but  in  excess,  it  turns 
To  combat  with  the  mother,  till  one  fall. 
So  if  this  tendency  within  his  breast 
Should  grow  to  such  extent  that  he  betray 
This  sacred  fatherland,  it  is  I  who  then 
Would  curse  him.     Let  us  pray,  and  pray,  my  son. 
(They  pass  into  the  hall  of  the  temple.    Meanwhile, 
the  crowd  in  the  square  has  increased.) 

ONE   OF  THE  PEOPLE. 
One  heareth  no  exciting  newrs ;  it  seems 
Our  hosts  have  not  yet  met  the  enemy. 


THE    TRAGEDY  56 

OP    MAN 


ANOTHER   SPEAKER. 

And  here  at  home,  so  drowsy  are  they  all, 
Perhaps  not  one  doth  even  forge  a  plan, 
As  in  the  olden  time,  to  carry  out, 
The  voices  of  the  people  needed  were. 
Since  early  morn,  I've  trod  this  place,  and  yet 
Found  not  a  single  buyer  for  my  vote. 

FIRST  SPEAKER. 
How  wearisome  is  life!  what  can  we  do? 

THIRD  SPEAKER. 

No  harm  could  come,  from  just  a  little  turmoil. 

(Meanwhile  Eve  has  lit  the  altar  fires,  washed  her 
hands  and  prepared  the  sacrifice.  Her  servants 
intone  a  hymn,  which  is  continued,  stanza  by 
stanza,  during  the  scene.  The  market  place  fills 
with  citizens  and  people.  Two  demagogues  strive 
for  the  tribune.) 

FIRST   DEMAGOGUE. 

Begone!     This  place  belongs  to  me.     The  land 
Will  be  in  peril,  if  I  do  not  speak. 

(The  people  cheer.) 

SECOND  DEMAGOGUE. 
It  will  be,  if  thou  speakest     Hireling,  down! 

(The  people  laugh  and  cheer.) 

FIRST   DEMAGOGUE. 

No  hireling  thou,  because  not  worth  the  hire. 
Compatriots,  in  grief  I  raise  my  voice: 
It  wounds  a  noble  heart,  a  great  one  thus 
To  trample  in  the  dust,  and  a  mighty  man 
I  now  must  drag  from  his  triumphal  car.. 


57  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


SECOND  DEMAGOGUE. 

Thou  scoundrel,  well  begun ;  with  flowers  adorning 
The  beast,  which  thou  to  sacrifice  hast  doomed. 

FIRST    DEMAGOGUE. 
Begone ! 

VOICES     FROM     THE     PEOPLE. 

Why  to  this  scoffer  do  we  list? 

(They  pull  at  the  second  demagogue.) 

FIRST    DEMAGOGUE. 

But  though  it  wounds  my  heart,  yet  must  I  speak ; 
For  thee,  O  worthy,  princely  race,  I  hold 
Above  thy  general. 

SECOND  DEMAGOGUE. 
This  starved  out  mob, 

So  sordid  souled,  cow'ring  like  dogs,  to  catch 
The  leavings  from  the  masters'  board?    Coward, 
Thy  taste  I  cannot  envy. 

FROM   THE   PEOPLE. 

A  traitor  too 
Is  he.     Down  with  him,  down! 

(They  press  closer  to  him.) 

EVE. 

(Sacrificing   on   the   altar,   two   doves   and  incense.) 
Holy  Aphrodite,  O  receive 
The  sacrifice  I  on  thy  altar  leave! 
No  laurels  ask  I  for  my  spouse's  brow, 
The  peace  of  home  thou  may'st  on  him  bestow. 
(Amid  the  smoke  of  the  incense,  Eros  appears  smil- 


THE    TRAGEDY  58 

OF    MAN 

ing,  surrounded  by  the  Charlies  strewing  roses 
over  Mm.  Group  of  worshipers  sing  in  adora- 
tion. ) 

THE  SERVANTS. 
O  grant  her  this  behest! 

EROS. 

O'er  her,  may  ever  rest 
The  blessing  of  a  guileless  heart. 

THE  CHAEITES. 
And  loving  care,  be  the  Charites'  part! 

SERVANTS. 
O  Aphrodite,  we 
Pour  forth  our  thanks  to  thee! 

FIRST    DEMAGOGUE. 
Ye  people  hear  the  accusation  then! 
The  great  Miltiades  betrays  the  land! 

SECOND  DEMAGOGUE. 

Thou  liest!     Listen,  or  in  shame  ye'll  come 
To  late  repentance. 

FIRST  SPEAKER. 

(From  the  people.) 
Thou  audacious  one! 
Down  from  here! 

(They  pitch  him  down  into  the  crowd.) 

FIRST   DEMAGOGUE. 
The  flower  of  your  youth 
Is  |n  his  hand,  and  Leinnos  at  one  blow 


59  THE    TRAGEDY 

OP    MAN 

He  could  have  taken ;  but  now  he  rests  at  Pharos, 
For  he  is   bought. 

THIBD    VOICE. 
Then  he  must  die! 

FIBST  CITIZEN. 

Shout  well, 
Or  I  will  turn  you  from  my  tenements! 

(The  sacrifice  ended,  the  divinities  vanish.) 

EVE    (Rising.) 

What  is  that  noise  without?     Let  us  inquire 
My  son. 

CIMON. 
A  traitor  is  condemned,  my  mother. 

EVE. 

(Stepping  out  on  the  stairs  of  the  temple  hall.) 
My  heart  is  ever  grieved,  to  see  the  great, 
Subject  to  judgment  by  rapacious  hordes ; 
When  in  the  mire  such  splendor  falls,  with  joy 
Malignant  gapes  the  mob,  as  if  thereby 
Their  vileness,  somehow,  might  be  justified. 

SECOND  SPEAKEB. 
Oh!  Sir,  I'm  hoarse,  and  I  would  like  to  yell. 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 
Well  here  is  aught,  wherewith  to  oil  thy  throat. 

SECOND   VOICE. 

(From    the   people.) 
What  am  I  to  shout? 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Say,    "Death    unto    him!" 


THE    TRAGEDY  60 

OF    MAN 


FROM  THE  CROWD. 
Death !     Death ! 

EVE. 
Of  whom  now  do  they  cry? 

SECOND  DEMAGOGUE. 

Of   whom,   but  of  the  one,   who  overtops 
His  fellows?     That  they  cannot  well  endure. 

EVE. 

Of   Miltiades?     Ye   Gods!   and   thou, 
Old  Crispos,  whom  my  husband  freed  from  bondage, 
Now  callest  for  his  death! 

CBISPOS. 

Forgive,  my  lady, 

But  one  of  us  may  live,  and  he  who  bids 
Me  shout,   supports  me  and  three  children. 

EVE. 

Woe 

To  thee  if  so  thy  fate  can  lower  thee. 
I  can  forgive,  for  thou  must  live;  and  thou, 
Thersites !     All,  each  one  of  you,  each  one, 
Who  lives  in  affluence  and  peace,  which  he 
Secured  for  you  by  his  great  victory, 
Ye  ingrates! 

THEBSITES. 

Ah!  my  lady,  it  is  bitter. 
But  what  do  we  do?    'T  is  the  people's  voice: 
For  who  doth  hazard  his  possessions  all, 
The   rising  billows   at  defiance  setting? 

FIRST   DEMAGOGUE. 
The  people's  verdict,  I  will  now  pronounce. 


61  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

(As  a  warrior  flying  with  terror  in  his  face.) 
I  give  alarm.    The  foe  is  at  the  gates. 

FIBST   DEMAGOGUE. 

It  cannot  be,  for  our  victorious  leader 
Doth  march  before! 

LUCIFEB. 

The  foe  is  even  he. 

He  heard  of  your  intent;  his  noble  heart 
Embittered  by  your  foul,  ungrateful   acts, 
E'en  as  ye  speak — he  comes  with  fire  and  sword. 

SECOND   DEMAGOGUE. 
And  this  ye  traitors  have  upon  us  brought! 

FBOM   THE  CBOWD. 

Then  let  them  die !     Long  live  our  general ! 
Woe  unto  us!   and  flee  whoever  can, 
For  all  is   lost. 

FIBST   DEMAGOGUE. 

Not  yet.  Let  all  of  us 
Before  him,  at  the  city  gates,  appear, 
And  unto  him  our  loving  tribute  pay. 

EVE. 

Ye  Gods!     The  sentence  that  doth  take  my  spouse 
From  me,  gives  pain,  but  oh!  more  bitter  this, 
'T  is  justified!    Though  still,  I  wish  him  back. 

FIBST  VOICE  (From  the  crowd.) 
Arrest  his  wife,  and  if  he  harm  our  city, 
She  and  her  child  shall  both  be  put  to  death! 


THE    TRAGEDY  62 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

Most  gladly  would  I  die  for  thee,  my  spouse, 
Did  not  the  nations'  curse  rest  on  my  child. 


CIMON. 

Fear  not  for  me,  my  mother,  come  with  me: 
This  holy  place  will  shield  us  from  all  harm. 
(They  escape  from  the  crowd  into  the  temple;  two 
nymphs  drop  chains  of  roses  between  them  and 
the  crowd,   causing   the  latter  to  retreat.     The 
blare    of    trumpets   is    heard   without,    and    the 
people  scatter  with   lamentations.     The  nymphs 
vanish. ) 


LUCIFEB   (Laughing  as  Tie  rubs  Ms  hands.) 
'T  was  a  fine  jest!     Cold  reason  jokes  can  make 
Where  human  hearts  in  agony  will  break. 

(Turning  toward  the  temple.) 
If  but  the  sight  of  that  which  is  so  fair 
Rejuvenating,   did  not  e'er  impair 
My  work!   it  puts  me  in  a  chilly  mood 
Of  discontent,  in  this  strange  sphere,  where  nude 
Is  chaste  and  pure,  and  e'en  ennobled,  sin, 
The    kiss    of   innocence,    with    roses,    win 
For   fate,    sublimity.     When   will   descend 
My  world,  that  monster  of  dread  doubt,  to  lend 
Its  force,  to  ridicule  th'  illusion  fair, 
Which  raises  man,  e'en  when  bowed  in  despair. 
To  earth ;  but  when  he  once  encountereth 
The  terrors,  and  the  agonies  of  death, 
Will   not   this   weary   shadow   come  at   last, 
To1  such  an  end,   as  that  I   have  forecast? 


63  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

(Adam  as  Miltiades,  is  carried  in,  wounded,  at  the 
head  of  an  armed  regiment.  People  and  dema- 
gogues suppliant  before  him.) 

VOICE     FROM     THE     CROWD. 

Long   live  our   general!     Have  mercy  on  us, 

0  great  man! 

ADAM. 

What  is  your  guilt,  and  why 
Do  ye  entreat?     For  what  can  strong  ones  ever 
From  the  weak  demand?     But  neither  wife 
Nor  child  doth  come  to  give  me  greeting,  though 

1  hope  that  unto  them,  no  harm  has  come. 

EVE. 

Why  com'st  Miltiades,   if  thine  own  spouse 
Cannot  rejoice  o'er  thy   return?     My  son, 
Thy   mother   swoons.     Uphold — uphold   her   now — 
Of  thy  good  name,  thy  father  hath  bereft  thee. 

ADAM. 

What's   this?     I   do  not  comprehend.     The  crowd 
For  mercy  begs;  my  own  wife  curses  me, 
While  bleeds  my  bosom  for  my  native  land. 

EVE. 

The  nation's  heart,  my  own,  doth  bleed  still  more. 
Why  at  the  head  of  this  great  army  com'st? 

ADAM. 

Doth  not  this  escort  suit  my  lofty  rank? 
I   came,  because  this  wound  so  serious 
Allowed  no  longer  to  fulfill  my  trust; 
And  to  account  for  every  act  of  mine, 
To  those  who  sent  me  forth ;  and  render  back 


THE    TRAGEDY  64 

OF    MAN 

To  the  majestic  people,  my  commission. 
My  comrades,  now  ye  are  at  liberty; 
For  ye  have  earned  your  hearth-stone's  sweet  repose 
And  now,  Pallas  Athena,  on  this  shrine, 
I  consecrate  to  thee,  this  sword  of  mine. 
(He  is  borne  to  the  steps  of  the  temple.    The  soldiers 
disperse. ) 

EVE   (Embracing  him.) 
Ah!   Miltiades,  where  could  be  found, 
A  happier  spouse  than  thine,  great,  noble  man! 
And  see,  thy  son,  how  like  he  is  to  thee; 
How  tall,  how  handsome  grown ! 

ADAM. 
My  dear  ones,  ye! 

CIMON. 

Well  did  I  know,  whate'er  my  father  did, 
Was  well. 

EVE. 

Oh!   shame  me  not,  for  better  far 
Should  I  have  known  this  spouse. 

ADAM. 

Present,  my  son, 
Thy  father's  sword  here  as  a  sacrifice. 

CIMON  (Hanging  up  the  sword.) 
This  sword  so  dear,  take  goddess,  to  thy  care: 
Until  I  come  to  claim  it,  once  to  wear! 

EVE. 

And  to  this  double  sacrifice,  in  turn 
The  mother  comes,  sweet  incense  here  to  burn. 

(Offers  the  incense.) 


65  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


FIRST  DEMAGOGUE   (From  the  Tribune.) 
Spoke  I  not  true  that  he  a  traitor  is, 
That  to  Darius,  he  is  sold?     The  wound 
Is  but  a  subterfuge,  not  wishing  now, 
Against  him  to  bear  arms. 

FBOM   THE   PEOPLE. 

Death  unto  him! 

ADAM. 
What  is  that  noise  without? 

EVE. 

A  dreadful  cry. 
Miltiades,  again  they  call  thee  traitor. 

ADAM. 

A  traitor !     Accusation   ludicrous  ! 
What,  I,  who  won  the  day  at  Marathon? 

EVE. 

Alas,  that  it  be  so!     A  wicked  world 
Around  us  breathes. 

FIRST   DEMAGOGUE. 
Why  do  ye  not  seize  him? 

(The  people  rush  up  to  the  Temple,  Lucifer  among 
them.) 

EVE. 

Safe  art  thou  here  within  the  temple's  gate, 
Miltiades,  oh !  do  not  move  from  here. 
Why   did'st  disperse   thy   retinue  of   state? 
To  this  vile  nest,  why  did'st  thou  not  set  fire? 
This  worthless  crowd  deserves  but  slavery's  chains ; 


THE    TRAGEDY  66 

OF    MAN 

They  feel  that  thou  art  born  o'er  them  to  reign ; 
And  feel  that  thou  art  nobler  than  them  all, 
And  in  their  hatred,  they  would  gladly  slay  thee, 
That  on  their  bended  knees  they  may  not  fall 
Beneath  thy  sway. 

FIRST    DEMAGOGUE. 

Ye  hear,  now,  how  doth  speak 
A  traitor's  wife? 

EVE. 

It  is  the  woman's  right, 
Her  husband,  e'en  when  guilty,   to   defend; 
The  more,  if  he  be  pure  and  true,  like  mine: 
His  enemy,  a  bastard  race,   like  this. 

FIRST    DEMAGOGUE. 

Why   does  this   worthy   race  allow   itself 
To  be  bemeaned? 

FIRST  VOICE   (From  the  crowd.) 

But  if  she  speaks  the  truth? 

FIRST  CITIZEN. 

Who  e'er  holds  to  them,  is  a  traitor  too. 
Yell,  tattered  herd,  or  famish,  all  of  you ! 

FROM  THE  PEOPLE. 
Death  unto  him ! 

ADAM. 

Hide  thou,  my  son,  that  ye 
See  not  my  blood.     Flee  woman,  from  my  arms 
Away !     May'st  thou  escape  the  light'niug,  which 
Must  strike  the  cliff;  for  I  alone,  must  die. 
Why  should  I  live,  knowing  what  folly,  't  is, 
The^freedom  for  which  all  my  life  I've  striven? 


67  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


FIBST    DEMAGOGUE. 
Why  do  ye  hesitate? 

FROM  THE  PEOPLE. 
Death   unto   him! 

ADAM. 

And  still  this  cowardly  race  I  do  not  curse; 
They   are  not  culpable ;   their  nature  it   is 
That  want  should  make  them  slaves ;  and  slavery 
Degrade  them  thus  to  envious  grovelers ; 
But  I  alone  have  been  the  fool,  believing 
That  such  a  race  had  need  of  liberty. 

LUCIFEB  (Aside.) 

Now,  thine  own  epitaph  thou  hast  pronounced; 
'Twill  serve  for  many  great  ones  after  thee. 

ADAM. 

Lead  me  below !     No  longer  will  I  claim 
This  temple's  shelter. 

(Having  laid  Eve  tenderly  in  the  arms  of  the  ser- 
vants, he  is  carried  to  the  steps.) 
Now  then  I  am  ready. 

SECOND    DEMAGOGUE. 
Defend  thyself,   for   nothing  yet  is   lost. 

ADAM. 

Did  I  defend  myself,  't  would  be  to  make 
My  wound  but  pain  the  more. 

SECOND   DEMAGOGUE. 
Oh !   do  but  speak ! 


THE  TRAGEDY  I 

OF  MAN 

For  did  the  crowd  not  crawl  just  now  in  dust 
Before  thee? 

ADAM. 

This  e'en  makes  speech  unavailing; 
For  its  own  shame,  the  people  ne'er  forgive. 

LUCIFER. 
Hast   thou   regained   thy   senses? 

ADAM. 

Yes,  indeed. 
LUCIFER. 

And  see'st  now,  thou  hast  been  a  nobler  ruler 
To  the  people,  than  they  have  been  to  thee? 

ADAM. 

It  may  be,  but  corruption  in  them  both 
I  find,  although  each  bears  a  different  name; 
And  both  alone  fulfill  but  fate's  decree. 
But  then,  oh!  wherefore,  wherefore,  burneth  e'er, 
A  soul,  for  aspirations  high  and  great? 
For  self  to  live,  'twere  better,  seeking  bliss, 
Wherewith  to  fill  this  span  of  human  life, 
Inebriated,  down  to  Hades  roll. 
Into  new  paths,  now  lead  me,  Lucifer, 
And  laughing,  let  me  others'  virtues  view, 
And  others'  woes,  while  all  delights  are  mine. 
Thou,  woman,  who  (it  dawns  upon  my  soul) 
Once  in  the  wilderness,  a  bower  for  me 
Did  conjure,  if  thou,  as  a  mother  chaste, 
My  son  dost  raise  to  a  good  citizen, 
A  fool  thou  art,  well  meriting  the  jeers 
Of  the  painted  jade,  who  in  the  brothel  sits, 
Heated  with  wine,  with  longing,  am'rous  lips. 
Be  'merry !    Pleasure  seek,  denying  virtue. 


69  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Now  to  the  judgment  bench,  to  expiate 
My  guilt,  though  not  as  one  to  low  deeds  fallen, 
But  like  a  great  soul  with  high  aims  inspired. 
(Meanwhile  the  block  is  placed  in  front  of  the  steps, 

by  the  side  of  which  Lucifer  stands,  with  an  axe. 

Adam  bends  his  neck.) 

FIRST   DEMAGOGUE. 
Let  him  be  put  to  death!    Long  live  our  land! 

LUCIFER  (Whispering.) 

A  fine  farewell,  is  't  not?    Now,  my  brave  lord, 
Does  not  the  raw,  chill  breeze  of  awful  death 
A  faint  and  unknown  shiver  through  thee  strike? 

EVE. 

Pallas,  thou  has  answered  not  my  prayer! 
(From  the  temple  flies  the  genius  of  death,  a  mild 

youth,   holding  a  lowered  torch  and  a  garland, 

who  approaches  Adam.) 

ADAM. 

Pallas  has  heard  thy  prayer,  and  Heaven  is  with  thee, 
For  peace,  my  Lucia,  to  my  heart  is  come. 

LUCIFER. 

Accurs'd  be  thou,  vain  world  of  dreams ;  once  more 
Thou  has  destroyed  the  bliss  I  was  to  gain. 

EVE. 

My  curse  on  thee,  thou  heartless,  pygmy  crowd! 
O'er  happiness  thou'st  cast  a   blighting  shroud; 
And  withered  droop  its  blossoms  fair,  to  die ; 
And  all  the  sunshine  freedom  brought  to  thee 
Was  naught,  as  was  its  bitterness  to  me. 


THE  TRAGEDY  70 

OF  MAN 


SCENE  VI. 

(Home.  An  open  hall,  with  statues  of  gods  and  mag- 
nificent vases,  in  which  incense  is  burning.  View 
of  the  Appenines.  In  the  centre  a  table,  with 
three  couches  near  it.  Adam  as  Sergiolus,  Luci- 
fer as  Milo,  and  Catulus,  three  debauchees.  Eve, 
as  Julia;  Hippia  and  Cluvia,  three  courtesans  in 
immodest  garb,  all  drinking.  On  a  tribune, 
gladiators  are  fighting.  Slaves  standing  about 
awaiting  orders;  flute  players  dispense  music. 
Tivilight;  later,  midnight.) 

CATULUS. 

How  clever,  graceful,  yet  how  modest!     See, 
Sergiolus,  that  red-sashed  gladiator; 
And  I  will  wager  that  he  wins. 

ADAM. 

Oh!   no! 
By  Hercules,  he  won't. 

CATULUS. 

Do  not  appeal 

To  Hercules;  for  who  now  in  the  gods 
Believes?  but  swear  by  Julia,  then  I  can 
Believe. 

ADAM. 

Agreed : 

LUCIFER. 

For  oaths,  the  soundest  basis! 
'Tis  a  false  goddess  in  a  false  god's  place. 
But  Sfey,  to  what  the  oath  in  fact  refers? 


71  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Dost  swear  but  by  her  beauty,  or  thy  love, 
Or  e'en  by  her  fidelity   to   thee? 

CATULI  s. 

All  beauty  fades ;  but  e'en  if  it  did  not, 
That  which  to-day  attracts,  satiety 
To-morrow  brings,  and  lesser  charms  allure 
With  all  the  magic  force  of  novelty. 

ADAM. 

'Twas  by  her  faithfulness  I  swore,  for  who 
Doth  squander  more  on  his  beloved  than  I? 

HIPPIA. 

O   fool,   can'st  thou   embrace   her   endlessly? 
And  if  thou  could'st, — thou,  who  insatiable, 
Forever  seekest  bliss,  would'st  seek  in  vain 
For  charms,  but  one  by  one  are  scattered  'round, 
And  in  one  maid  thou  findest  but  a  part, 
While  bliss  and  beauty,  an  ideal  ever — 
A  magic  dream,  and  unattainable 
Doth  float  before  thine  eyes. — How  dost  thou  know 
That  'tis  not  but  a  mood,  a  passing  dream 
That  lureth  thee?    A  gladiator,  crushed 
And  torn. 

ADAM. 

'Tis  true,  'tis  true;  Hippia  cease! 
But  why,  like  Tantalus,  doth  pleasure  lure, 
When  we  have  not  the  strength  of  Hercules, 
Nor   Proteus-like,    forever   changing    life? 
The  wearied  slave,  when  ends  his  week  of  toil, 
Enjoys  an  hour,  such  as  his  master  craves 
In  vain ;  to  wearied  ones  alone  is  bliss 
A  cooling  draught,  but  death  to  him  who  plunges 
Into   the  wave. 


THE    TRAGEDY  72 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

What  worthy  moral  precepts, 

On  a  fair  maiden's  breast,  by  spicy  wines! 

Ye  make  the  wager  then? 

ADAM. 

If  I  should  lose, 
Julia  shall  be  thine. 

CATULUS. 
And  if  thou  win'st? 

ADAM. 
Thy  steed  is  mine. 

CATULUS. 

Another   moon,   and  thou 

May'st  have  her  back,  or  to  my  fish  pond  I'll 
Consign  her. 

LUCIFEB. 

See  this  fat  fish,  Julia?  eat  him, 
For  thou  of  others  soon  wilt  be  the  prey. 

EVE. 

Will  not  the  worms  of  earth  thy  flesh  devour? 
Let  all  who  live  enjoy  life's  every  hour; 
And  be  there  one  who  can  not,  let  him  laugh, 
And  never  cease,  the  flowing  wine  to  quaff. 

(Drinks.) 

ADAM    (To  the  Gladiator.) 
Hey!     Heed  thee  well! 

CATULUS. 

Upon  him,  like  a  brave! 
(The  gladiator  of  Catulus  falls,  and  raising  his  fin- 


73  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

ger,  pleads  for  Jiis  life.  Adam  is  about  to  give 
the  sign  of  mercy,  when  Catulus  stays  his  hand, 
and  with  clenched  fist,  the  thumb  directed  to- 
ward the  gladiator,  gives  the  sign  of  death.) 

CATULUS. 

Recipe  ferrum!     Cowardly  bastard!     Slaves 
Enough  I  have,  and  I  no  niggard  am, 
Who  would  begrudge  fair  women  such  a  scene, 
When  so  much  sweeter  is  the  kiss,  the  passion 
More  intense,  if  a  little  blood  be  shed. 

ADAM. 

The  steed  is  mine!     My  Julia,  come,  embrace  me! 
But  bear  away  the  corpse!     The  dancers  call, 
And  play  us  now  a  comedy!     Of  scenes 
Like  this  we've  had  enough  to-day. 
(The  corpse  is  carried  away,  and  the  tribune  is  filled 
with  dancers.) 

CATULUS. 

Cluvia ! 

Do  thou  come  too,  for  long  I  can  not  look, 
When  others  do  embrace. 

LUCIFEB. 

We  too,  Hippia, — 

May  we  not  follow  this  example?     But 
First  lick  thy  lips,  that  thereon  be  no  poison. 
There,  sweetheart,   now  we  can  enjoy  ourselves. 

ADAM. 

Why  beats  thy  heart  so  violently  now. 
My  Julia?    I  can  scarcely  rest  upon  it. 

LUCIFEE. 
Just  hear !     This  fool  of  hearts  is  speaking  still ! 


THE    TRAGEDY  74 

OF    MAN 


CATULUS. 

See,  dekr,  I  trouble  not  thy  heart  at  all, 
Do  what  thou  wilt  with  it,  if  I  know  naught, 
If  ever  ready  burns  thy  kiss  for  me. 

CLUVIA. 
Thou  lover  generous,  I  drink  to  thee! 

(Drinking.) 
CATULUS. 

'Tis  well,  'tis  well!     But  Cluvia,  do  not  take 
Thine  arm  so  soft  and  cushioned  breast  from  me ; 
And  see,  my  wreath  has  fallen  from  my  head! 
(To    the    dancers.)      Ah!    what   a    masterpiece    that 

figure  was! 
All   that   voluptuous   fire,    with   grace   combined. 

CLUVIA. 

I'll  blindfold  thee,  if  thou  in  them  find'st  charms 
In  which  with  them  I  vie;  but  from  thee  ne'er 
Can  I  earn  e'en  one  word  of  praise.      (Pointing  to 

Lucifer.)      But   look 

Instead,  on  that  sour  face!     What  need  has  he 
Of  a  fair  maiden,  if  he  can  naught  else 
Than  let  her  fall  asleep,  while  with  cold  eyes, 
And  his  sardonic  smile,  he  but  derides 
The  hundred  sweet,  though  foolish  little  arts 
Which   add   a   flavor   to   companionship? 

CATULUS. 

In  truth,  a  face  like  that  perforce  will  freeze 
The  most  poetic  humor  of  whole  crowds, 
And  deck  them  with  a  chill,  funereal  shroud. 
He  who  withstands  the  moment's  charm,  and  lets 
His*   soul    in    brute    indifference    remain, 


75  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Can  no  good  fellow  be,  and  should  remain 
At  home. 

HIPPIA. 

Indeed,  I  almost  fear  the  poor  one 
Has  even  now  contracted  the  black  death, 
Our   city's  scourge. 

ADAM. 

Away  with  this  dark  picture ! 
Let's  have  a  wanton  song!     Who  knows  the  best! 

HIPPIA    ( Singing. ) 
Love   and  wine, 
Ne'er  decline; 

From  each  bowl,  now  fragrance  thine. 
As  the  sun, 
Shines  upon 
Graveyard  stones, 
Bleaching  bones ; 
Bliss  divine, 
Brings  maid  and  wine, 
Into  our  life,  till  its  decline. 

Love  and  wine, 

Ne'er  decline ; 

From  each  maid  new  charms  are  thine. 

As  the  sun, 

Shines  upon 

Graveyard  stones, 

Bleaching  bones, 

Bliss  divine 

Brings  maid  and  wine, 

Into  our  life,  till  its  decline. 

CATULUS. 
Most    excellent!     What,    Cluvia,   knowest   thou? 


THE    TRAGEDY  76 

OF    MAN 


CLUVIA    ( Singing. ) 
A  foolish  world  it  was  of  yore: 
Lucretia  in  her  widow's  bed,  for  more 
Delights  yearned  not;  nor  held  she  dear, 
Nor  burned  her  lips,  for  the  cavalier. 
'Stead  in  the  brothel  to  conceal  the  smart, 
With  cold  steel,  pierced  she  deep  her  heart. 
Let  us   rejoice!   the  world   is   wiser   grown. 
Let  us  rejoice!  the  old  time  ne'er  bemoan! 

ALL. 

Let  us   rejoice!   the  world   is  wiser   grown. 
Let  us  rejoice!  the  old  time  ne'er  bemoan! 

CLUVIA. 

A  foolish  world  it  was  of  yore. 
Brutus  sat  not  at  his  villa  door; 
But  grasping  his  sword,  to  battle  he  went; 
As  a  vile  mercenary,  spent 
His  blood  upon  the  barren  earth, 
For  the  ragged  herd,  devoid  of  worth. 

ALL. 

Let  us  rejoice!  the  world  is  wiser  grown. 
Let  us  rejoice !  the  old  time  ne'er  bemoan ! 

CLUVIA. 

A  foolish  world  it  was  of  yore, 
When  heroes'  brains  grim  phantoms  bore. 
At  that  which  holy  was,  we  sneer. 
If  in  our  circus  should  appear, 
A   couple   idiots  of  that   sort, 
They'd  furnish  us  the  finest  sport. 


77  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ALL. 

Let  us  rejoice!  the  world  is  wiser  grown. 
Let  us  rejoice!  the  old  time  ne'er  bemoan! 

LUCIFER. 

Ah !  Cluvia,  the  palm  to  thee  belongs. 
I  wish  I  were  the  author  of  that  lay. 

ADAM. 

Thou  sing'st  not,  Julia ;  why  art  thou  so  sad, 
While   all   about  thee   merriment  doth  breathe? 
Can'st  thou  not  rest  thee  well  upon  my  breast? 

EVE. 

Ah!  well,  too  well.     Sergiolus,  believe, 
'Tis  only  joy  that  maketh  me  to  grieve ; 
The  joy  that  laughs  is  not  true  happiness. 
Into  our  bliss,  a  drop  of  bitterness 
Doth  ever  seem  to  steal ;  a  coming  woe, 
A  vague  foreboding,  by  which  we  well  know 
The  moment  is  a  flower  and  fades  away. 

ADAM. 
E'en  I  this  presage  vague  can  not  gainsay. 

EVE. 

And  when  unto  these  melodies   I  hark, 
I  do  not  grasp  of  uttered  words  the  sense, 
But  o'er  the  waves  of  song,  as  in  a  barque, 
I'm  borne  along  as  in  a  dream,  far  hence, 
Into  the  distant  past,  neath  palms,  where  gleams 
Of  sunlight  fell,  there  where  so  guileless  I, 
In  childish  innocence,  once  played;  my  dreams 
And  aspirations  noble  were,  and  high. 


THE    TRAGEDY  78 

OF    MAN 

'Twas  but  a  dream  delirious ;  forgive, 
For  now  I  wake;  a  kiss  to  thee  I  give. 

ADAM. 

Away  with  music  and  the  dance,  away ! 
These  constant  sweets,  as  boundless  as  the  seas 
Repulsive  are  to  me;  my  heart  doth  yearn 
For  bitterness,  for  wormwood  in  my  wine, 
A  sting  on  rosy  lips,  and  peril  near! 
(The  dancers  go  away.     Cries  of  agony  are   heard 
without.) 

ADAM. 
What  cry  is  that  which  pierces  to  the  marrow? 

LUCIFER. 

They're  crucifying  several  of  those  madmen, 
Dreamers  of  justice  and  fraternity. 

CATULUS. 

Why  did  they  not  remain  at  home,  forget 
The  world,  enjoy  their  lives,  and  never  care 
For  others'   weal   or  woe? 

LUCIFEB. 

The  poor  man  says 

Unto  the  rich,  **  Be  thou  my  brother  " ;  but, 
Exchange  the  two,  he'll  nail  him  to  the  cross. 

CATULUS. 

Then  let  us  laugh  at  power  and  misery, 
The  pestilence  that  decimates  the  city, 
All  fate  divine! 

(Renewed  shrieks.) 


79  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM    (To    himself.) 

Methinks  I  see 

The  past,  as  back  on  wings  of  memory 
I'm  borne,  when  aspirations  high  did  sway 
My  soul.     Thus,  Julia  sweet,  did'st  thou  not  say? 

EVE. 

Yes. 

(It  has  grown  dark.  In  front  of  the  hall  <a  funeral 
procession,  burning  torches,  and  mourning  wo- 
men are  seen.  The  whole  company  seem  to  be 
overcome,  and  a  painful  silence  prevails.) 

LUCIFEE   (Laughing  aloud.) 
I  perceive  the  mirth  from  here  has  fled, 
The  wine  all  out,  and  wit  and  wisdom  dead. 
Must  the  sour  gentleman  replenish  both? 
Perhaps  some  one  among  us  is  afraid, 
Or  just  converted. 

ADAM   (Hurling  his  cup  at  Lucifer.) 

Perish,  if  thou  so 
Believest ! 

LUCIFEB. 

Now,  let  me  invite  among  us 
Another  guest,  who  may  perchance  revive 
Our  mirth.     Slaves!  bring  in  him  whom  by  the  light 
Of  torches  you  accompany,  for  we 
Would  treat  him  to  a  cup  of  fiery  wine. 
(The  corpse  is  brought  in  an  open  coffin  and  placed 
upon  the  table.     The   funeral  procession  in  the 
rear.    Lucifer  raises  the  cup  of  wine  and  toasts 
the  corpse.) 
Drink  deep!     Thy  turn  to-day,  to-morrow  mine! 


THE    TRAGEDY  80 

OF    MAN 


HIPPIA. 
Perhaps  thou  yearnest  for  a  kiss. 

LUCIFEB. 

Then  steal 
The  pest  that  lurks  within  his  lips. 

HIPPIA. 

If  thee 

I  kiss,  why  not  kiss  him  as  well? 
(Leans  over  the  coffin  and  kisses  the  corpse.     The 
Apostle  Peter  steps  forth  from  the  crowd.) 

THE   APOSTLE   PETEE. 

Stand  back! 
Thou  breathest  in  the  air  of  pestilence! 

(All  rise  in  fright.) 

ALL. 

The  pestilence!     How  terrible!     Away! 

THE   APOSTLE   PETER. 
You   miserable,   sinful,   cowardly   race! 
While  happiness  about  you  smiles,  ye're  like 
The  fly  that  basketh  in  'the  sunshine,  boldly, 
Scornfully,  on  God  and  virtue  trampling; 
But  when  dread  peril  at  your  door  doth  knock, 
Ye  feel  the  mighty  pressure  of  God's  hand ; 
In  doubt  and  abject  terror,  then  ye  quail. 
Feel  ye  not  now  the  weight  of  Heaven's  wrath 
Upon  you?    Look  about  you  here:  the  city 
Desolated,  see !    Your  golden  grain 
Is  trampled  down  by  savage  alien  hordes. 
Ail  order  is  undone,  for  none  command, 


81  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

And  none  obey.     Murder  and  rapine  bold 

Stalk  now  through  the  once  peaceful  domiciles. 

Pale  fear  and  horror  leaving  in  their  wake. 

From  Heaven  nor  from  the  earth,  no  mercy  comes. 

So  ye  cannot,  with  lust's  intoxicant, 

E'er  frown  this  call,  which  penetrates  the  depths 

Profound  of  hearts,  which  to  more  lofty  aims 

Doth  vainly  spur  them.     Is  it  then  not  true, 

Voluptuousness  bringeth  no  content, 

But  loathing  waketh  in  the  breast?     And  now, 

Ye  look  about  you,  dumb  and  terrified, 

With  trembling  on  your  lips.     But  all  in  vain! 

No  longer  in  the  gods  do  ye  believe ; 

In  cold  and  stormy  death  they  lie,  crumbling 

Into  dust; 

(The  images  of  the  gods  are  seen,  crumbling 

away. ) 

And  ye  have  not  yet  found 
The  new  God,  from  this  ruin  rising.     See! 
But  look  around !     What  desolates  the  city 
More  than  the  plague?    Thousands,  from  couches  soft 
Uprising,  people  the  desert  land  of  Thebes; 
A  nation  of  rude  anchorites,  who  seek 
To  waken  blunted  sensibilities, 
And  elevate  them.     So  this  bastard  race 
Must  perish,  to  clear  and  purify  the  land 
For  the  new  world,  which  now  must  take  its  place. 

HIPPIA. 

(Having  fallen  down  in  front  of  the  table.) 
O!   Woe  is  me!   How  terrible  the  pain! 
Cold  sweat  and  fires  of  Orcus,  alternating. 
The  plague!  the  plague!     I  perish.     Is  there  none 
Among  you,  who  so  long  shared  my  delights, 
Not  one,  to  tend  me  now? 


THE    TRAGEDY  82 

OP    MAN 


LUCIFEE. 

To-day,  'tis  thou, 
To-inorrow,  I,  my  sweet. 

HIPPIA. 

Then  kill  me,  else 
My  curse  will  follow  thee. 

THE  APOSTLE  PETER   (Approaching  her.) 

Curse  not,  poor  maid. 
Almighty  God  and  I  come  to  thine  aid; 
He  is  the  everlasting  God  of  love! 
I  raise  thee  now  to  His  high  realm  above ; 
With  holy  water  now  I  cleanse  thy  soul, 
And  thee  'mong  his  own  faithful  flock  enroll. 

(Takes  a  bowl  from  the  table  and  christens  her.) 

HIPPIA. 
'Tis  well  with  me,  my  Father!  now  I  rest. 

(Dies.) 
CATULUS. 

Unto  the  desert  Thebes  to-day  I'll  flee; 
For  I  this  loathsome,  sinful  world  detest. 

CLUVIA. 
Wait,  Catulus,  for  I  would  go  with  thee! 

(They  depart.) 
ADAM. 

(Advances,  lost  in  thought.) 
And  Julia,  what  dost  thou  do  here,  where  death 
Has  killed  all  joy  with  its  most  cruel  breath? 

EVE. 
Is  upt  my  place  where  thou  my  lover  art? 


83  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Ah,  me;  thou  could'st  have  found  within  my  heart 

The  evidence  of  sentiments  sublime, 

If  lust  had  not  e'er  been  thine  object  prime. 

ADAM. 

Too  true;  the  more  the  pity,  that  'tis  true, 

That  woe  and  misery  must  be  our  due ; 

For  sin  to  suffer  untold  agony. 

(Kneels    and    raises    his    Jiand    to    heaven.) 

Oh!  if  above  a  mighty  God  there  be; 

If  o'er  us  be  his  care  and  might,  to  earth 

New  races  and  ideals  bring,  the  worth 

Of  man  increase;  be  nobler  aims  begun. 

We  are  but  weak ;  help  us,  God,  mighty  one ! 

(In  the  sky,  the  sign  of  the  cross  is  visible;  from  be- 
hind the  mountains  is  seen  the  glow  of  burning 
cities.  From  the  mountain  tops  come  barbarous 
people.  From  the  distance  sounds  a  pious 
hymn. ) 

LUCIFEB    ( Soliloquizing. ) 

This  scene  doth  make  me  shudder  somewhat,  though 

With  man,  I  do  not  need  to  strive ;  for  that 

Which  I  cannot,  he  doeth  in  my  stead. 

This  juggling  I  have  seen  before.    When  slow 

The  halo  fades  away,  there  still  remains — 

The  bloody  cross! 

THE   APOSTLE   PETEE. 
The  Lord  hath  heard  thy  prayer. 
Look  all  around  thee  here ;  the  mouldy  earth 
Will  be  reborn.    These  barb'rous  warriors 
In  bearskin  clad,  thy  fairest  cities  fire, 
Their  steeds  down  trampling  fields  of  centuries, 
Deserted  temples   into   stalls  converting. 
Fresh  blood  they'll  pour  into  th'  impoverished  veins; 


THE    TRAGEDY  84 

OF    MAN 

And  those  who  in  the  circus  hymns  entune, 
Bleeding  and  torn,  by  ravenous  lions'  claws, 
Will  sow  ideas  new,   fraternity 
And  individuality,  to  shake 
The  world's  foundations. 

ADAM. 

I  feel,  I  feel,  the  soul 

Hath  other  yearnings,  than  for  slothful  joys, 
Upon   the  pillow's   swelling   softness.     Joy 
More  satisfying  comes  of  shedding  blood 
For  noble  purposes. 

THE   APOSTLE    PETEB. 
Then  let  this  be 

Thine  aim ;  glory  for  God,  and  work  for  thee, 
For  personality  is  free,  and  all 
Which  therein  is,  may  to  account  be  brought, 
But  joined  to  one  command,  and  that  is  love. 

ADAM. 

Then  up  to  battle,  and  to  inspiration 
For  the  new  principles,  the  world  anew 
Creating,  whose  blossom  shall  be  chivalry ; 
The  poetry,  which  at  the  altar's  side 
Shall  bloom — ideal  high  of  womanhood. 

(He  departs,  supported   by  Peter.) 

LUCIFEB. 

Impossible  is  that  which  lureth  thee, 
Though  manly  and  though  glorious  it  be ! 
It  pleases  God,  it  leads  toward  his  care; 
The  devil  laughs,  it  drives  thee  to  despair! 

(Follows  Adam.) 
I 


85  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


SCENE    VII. 

(Constantinople.  Market  place,  with  citizens  loung- 
ing about.  In  the  centre,  the  palace  of  the 
Patriarch,  to  the  right,  a  convent,  to  the  left  a 
grove.  Adam  as  Tancred,  in  the  prime  of  life, 
with  other  knights  returning  from  the  crusade 
of  Asia.  Waving  banners  and  flourish  of  trum- 
pets. Lucifer  as  his  halberdier.  Evening;  later, 
night.) 

FIRST  CITIZEN. 

Here  comes  again  another  savage  horde. 

Come,  let  us  flee,  and  bolt  our  doors  and  gates ! 

They  come  to  plunder,  and  are  desperate. 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Our  women  save;  take  heed!   these  brutes  in  mail 
The  pleasures  of  the  harem  too  well  know. 

FIBST  CITIZEN. 
Our  women  too,  the  rights  of  conquerors. 

ADAM. 

Stop,  men !  don't  run ;  why  run  away  from  us 
Or  see  ye  not  this  holy  symbol  here 
Fraternally  that  binds  us  to  one  aim? 
Into  the  heart  of  Asia  we  have  borne 
The  light  of  our  true  faith,  the  law  of  love 
To  countless  millions  of  barbarians, 
Where  our  redeemer's  holy  cradle  stood; 
And  'mong  you  here,  is  there  no  charity? 

FIRST    CITIZEN. 

We've  heard  such  speech  before,  and  often  too, 
When  lo!  fire  brands  into  our  houses  flew. 


THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM    (To   the    knights.) 
This  is,  behold,  the  awful  curs'd  fruit, 
Which  grows,  when  we  permit  such  robbers  vile, — 
Waving  the  holy  banner  in  their  hands, — 
Our  plans  to  prostitute,  and  this  must  be 
The  sad  result,  when  cowardly  flattery 
Of  the  passions  of  the  mob  ahead 
Doth  press  and  take  the  lead.     My  knightly  friends, 
As  long  as  with  unblemished  honor,  we 
Can  draw  the  sword,  for  valor  and  defense 
Of  womankind,  and  glory  of  our  God; 
So  long  can  we  insist,  that  Providence 
Has  sent  us  forth,  to  curb  those  demons  foul ; 
Despite  their  own  base  selves,  to  lead  them  back 
To  paths  of  virtue,  which  all  men  once  trod, 
Performing  deeds  sublime,  and  praising  God. 

LUCIFEB. 

Fair  words  thou  speakest,  Tancred,  but  if  still 
No  longer  by  the  people  recognized 
Wert  thou,  as  leader? 

ADAM. 

Where  the  spirit  is, 
There  is  the  victory,  conquer  I  must. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  if  they  too  this  spirit  have,  wilt  thou 
Descend  to  them? 

ADAM. 

But  why   should   I   descend? 
Were  it  not  nobler  them  to  elevate? 
But  to  resign  the  dangers  of  the  combat 
In  l^attle,  because  alone,  were  just  as  mean, 


87  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

As  srnall-souled,  as  with  envy  to  reject 
A  comradeship  in  glorious  victory. 

LUCIFER. 

Well !  well !  what  has  become  of  that  great  thought 
For  which  the  martyrs  in  the  circus  died? 
And  individual  liberty  is  this? 
'Tis  of  fraternity  a  wondrous  sort. 

ADAM. 

Mock  not,  nor  for  one  moment  e'en  believe 
That  I,  the  glorious  teachings  do  not  heed. 
They  fill  my  soul.     Let  him  who  feels  himself 
Inspired  by  the  holy  spark,  go  on, 
And  if  he  reaches  us,  with  real  joy 
We  will  receive  him  in  our  midst,  and  then 
A  sword  thrust  raises  him  into  our  order. 
But  we  must  guard  with  vigilance  the  treasures 
Of  our  order,  while  fermenting  chaos 
Prevails  therein,   while  men   still  disagree. 
Ah!  were  it  here,  ah!  were  it  here,  the  day, 
That  day,  when  our  redemption  full  shall  be, 
When  all  the  barriers  fall,  when  all  is  pure. 
But  I  would  doubt  the  advent  of  that  day 
If  our  Almighty  God  himself  were  not 
The  founder  of  the  mighty  work.     My  friends, 
Ye  see  how  we  have  been  received,  as  waifs 
Among  the  city's  murm'ring  populace; 
So  naught  is  left  us  now,  but  in  yon  grove, 
Our  camp  to  pitch,  as  we  were  wont  to  do 
Among  the  pagan  folk.    A  better  time 
Will  coine — March  on,  and  I  will  join  you  there; 
Each  knight  will  answer  for  his  retinue. 

(The  crusaders  withdraw.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  88 

OF    MAN 

(Lucifer  laughs  mockingly.) 

LUCIFER. 

A  pity,   that  thy  sentiments  sublime, 
Once  more  should  like  the  famous  apple  prove; 
Fair  to  the  eye,  but  rotten  to  the  core. 

ADAM. 

Hold!     Hold!  must  e'er  all  things  deride  and  scorn? 
Hast  thou  foresworn  all  nobler  sentiments? 

LUCIFER. 

If  I  believed,  what  then  would  it  avail, 
Thy  kind  believing  not?     This  knightly  order, 
Which   like  a   lighthouse,   'mid  the  ocean's  waves 
Thou'st  set,   sometime,   a  ruin  standing  there, 
Its  lights  extinguished,  will  become   a  reef, 
More  perilous  to  the  brave  mariner 
Than  many  others,  which  had  never  light. 
All  things  that  live,  their  blessings  strewing  round, 
In  time  must  die,  the  soul  will  take  its  flight; 
The  body  liveth  on,  a  carcass  vile 
Exhaling  all  its  deadly  miasmata, 
In  the  new  world,  which  'round  it  doth  unfold. 
See,  thus  inherit  we,  from  bygone  times, 
All  that  is  grand. 

ADAM. 

Our  order,  now  sublime, 

When  once   it  does  dissolve,   the  holy  doctrines 
Will  have  permeated  all  the  races, 
Then  there  will  be  no  danger  more. 

LUCIFER. 

This  Holy  Word,  it  is,  which  I  contend, 
Becomes  a  curse,  one  which  some  day  will   rend 


89  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

The  whole  of  Christendom.     This   Holy  Word 
You  twist  and  turn,  until  grown  quite  absurd; 
You  file  and  rasp,  you  sharpen  and  you  split, 
'Till  it  for  bedlam  makes  man  fit : 
Although  exact  conceptions  no  man  can 
E'er  grasp,  you  still  will  scrutinize  and  scan. 
Look  at  this  sword ;  it  could  be  more  or  less 
In  length;  a  sword  it  still  remains,  confess. 
We  could  continue  this  to  weariness; 
The  exact  boundaries  we  cannot  guess. 
I  do  admit  thy  senses  feel  the  truth, 
When  on  the  whole  a  change  occurs.     Forsooth, 
Why  do  I  preach?     This  talk  but  wearies  me, 
Just  look  around  and  you  will  see. 

(A  few  citizens  have  again  come  on  the  scene.) 

ADAM. 

My   friends, 

My  people,  weary,  seek  asylum  here, 
Perhaps  not  vainly,  in  the  capital 
Of   Christendom. 

THIBD   CITIZEN. 
It  is  a  question,  though, 
If  in  your  heresy,  ye  are  not  worse 
Than  pagans. 

FOUBTH  CITIZEN. 
Say,  dost  believe  Homoousian, 
Or  Homoiousian? 

ADAM. 
I  comprehend  not. 

LUCIFEE. 

Betray  thyself  not!     This  is  most  important 
Here. 


THE    TRAGEDY  90 

OF    MAN 


FOUBTH  CITIZEN. 
See  how   he  hesitates.     He  is 
A  heretic. 

OTHEES. 

Away  from  them,  away ! 
Let  us  conceal  ourselves  within  our  homes. 
And  cursed  be  he,  who  offers  them  asylum. 

(They  disperse.) 

(The  Patriarch  with  his  retinue,  in  princely  pomp, 
comes  out  of  his  palace,  followed  by  a  crowd  of 
friars  leading  some  heretics  in  chains.  Soldiers 
and  populace  in  the  rear.) 

ADAM. 

I  am  amazed!     Tell  me,  what  prince  doth  there 
Approach,  so  haughty  and  aggressive? 

LUCIFEB. 

This 
The  arch  priest  is,  successor  of  the  apostles. 

ADAM. 

And  that  bare  footed,  ragged  tribe,  leading 
The  fettered  prisoners,   with  joy  quite  unconcealed, 
Beneath  that  semblance  of  humility? 

LUCIFER. 
A  host  of  friars,  Christian  cynics. 

ADAM. 

Ne'er 
Amid  my  native  mountains,  saw  I  such. 


91  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

But  later,  them  wilt  see  them.     Leprosy 
Thou  knowest,  slowly  spreads;  but  heed,  that  thou 
Give  no  offense  to  this  most  virtuous  people; 
From  this  same  cause,  irreconcilable. 

ADAM. 
What  virtue  though,  can  such  as  these  possess? 

LUCIFEB. 

Mortification  and  self-abnegation 

Their  virtues  are,  which  on  the  cross,  thy  Master 

Once  began. 

ADAM. 

Thereby  he  brought  salvation 
To  the  world;  but  God,  these  cowards  blaspheme, 
Like   unto   rebels,   all   his   grace   despising — 
He  who  'gainst  a  fly,  as  'gainst  a  bear 
Doth  arm  himself,  and  giveth  battle,  is 
A  fool. 

LUCIFEE. 

But  if  they  look  upon  the  fly, 

As  if  it  were  a  bear,  is  't  not  their  right, 

As  real  heroes  of  asceticism, 

Is  't  not  their  right,  to  chase  to  hell,  those  who 

This  life  enjoy? 

ADAM. 

Like  Thomas,  do  I  see, 
Believing  not,  but  nearer,  these  delusions 
Would  I   view. 

(Stepping  up  to  the  Patriarch.) 
My  father,  we  are  those 
Who  battled  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
And  from  our  journey  wearisome,  we  now 


THE    TRAGEDY  92 

OF    MAN 

Would  rest,  but  these  receive  us  not,  thou 
Who  art  all-powerful,  help  us  in  our  need. 

PATBIABCH. 

My  son,  to  trifling  work  I  can  not  now 
Attend.     God's  glory  and  the  people's  weal 
Require  my  judgment  on  the  heretics, 
That  flourish  as  the  weeds,  exhaling  'round 
Their  poison,  and  although  with  fire  and  sword 
We  thin  them  out,  with  new  strength,  e'er  they  rise 
And  bring  all  hell  upon  us.     Now,  if  ye 
Are  warriors  and  Christians,  why  seek  ye  there, 
In  distant  lands,  the  Saracen?     The  foe 
Is  here  more  dangerous.     Then  rise!  lay  waste 
The  villages  with  women,  children,  age! 

ADAM. 
My  father,  dost  not  wish  the  innocent 

PATRIARCH. 

The  reptile  too  is  innocent  when  small, 
Or  when  his  tooth  of  venom  he  hath  lost; 
Dost  spare  him  then? 

ADAM. 

Ah!  truly  dire  the  sin 

Must  be,  that  so  inflames  the  Church,  whose  law 
Is  that  of  love! 

PATRIARCH. 

My  son,   he  loveth  not 

Who  flattereth  the  flesh,  but  who  leads  back 
The  erring  soul  if  even  at  the  sword's  point 
If  needful  be,  on  through  the  flame,  to  Him 
Who  said,  "  Not  peace,  but  strife,  unto  the  world 
I  bfing."     These  wicked  heretics  are  teaching 
The  myst'ry  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 


93  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Homoiousian,  when  naught,  the  church 
Has  taught  but  Homoousian  as  a  tenet 
Of  the  faith. 

FRIARS. 

Death  unto  them !     The  stake 
Burns  even  now. 

ADAM. 

Give  up,  my  friends,  the  "  i," 
A  greater  blessing  waits  the  sacrifice, 
In  battling  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

AGED  HERETIC. 

O,  Satan,  do  not  tempt!  for  we  shall  lead 
For  the  true  faith,  e'en  as  God  hath  ordained. 

A  FRIAR. 
Ha !  bold  art  thou.    Dost  thou  the  true  faith  claim  ? 

AN  AGED  HERETIC. 

Doth  Rimini  not  speak  for  us,  as  well 
As  other  synods  numberless? 

A  FRIAR. 

In  paths 

Of  error  wandered  they,  but  Nicea 
And  others  orthodox,  did  they  so  teach? 

AGED  HERETIC. 

The  partisans!  how  boldly  they  lead  on 
To  argument  with  us,  but  answer  now, 
Where  have  ye,  like  to  Arius,  a  father? 
Or  the  two  Eusebii? 

FRIAR. 

Have  ye 
An  Athanasius  then? 


THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


AGED  HEBETIC. 
Your  martyrs,  though, 
Where  then  are  they? 

FEIAB. 
We  have  still  more  than  you. 

AGED  HEBETIC. 

Fine  martyrs,  blinded  by  the  devil's  wiles, 
To  death  condemned.    Ye  are  great  Babylon 
I  say,  the  whore,  of  whom  St.  John  doth  say, 
She  shall  be  wiped  from  off  the  earth. 

FBIAB. 

And  ye, 

The  seven-headed  dragon,  antichrist, 
Of  whom  St.  John  doth  speak.    Knaves  and  swindlers 
Are  ye  all,  companions  of  the  devil. 

AGED  HEBETIC. 
Robbers,  serpents,  whorers,  jugglers,  ye! 

PATBIABCH. 

Away  with  them !     We  have  delayed  too  long, 
For  our  God's  glory.     To  the  stake  with  them! 

AGED  HEBETIC. 

For  God's  glory,  well  thou  sayest,  knave; 
For  God's  glory,  falls  the  sacrifice. 
Ye  are  the  stronger  ones,  and  have  your  will; 
But  heaven  will  judge,  if  good  your  deeds.    E'en  now 
Your  hours  of  sin  are  told,  for  from  our  blood, 
New  warriors  will  be  born,  for  thought  will  live. 
The  fire  that  upward  flames,  will  light  the  world 
For  future  centuries.     Then  come,  my  friends, 
Unto  this  death  of  glory,  let  us  go! 


95  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


THE   HERETICS    (Singing  in   chorus.) 
(1.)     My  God,  my  God!  why  hast  thou  forsaken 

me?  and  why  art  thou  so  far  from  helping  me,  and 

from  the  words  of  my  roaring? 

(2.)     Oh.  my  God,  I  cry  in  the  day  time,  but  thou 

hearest  not,   and   in   the  night  season,   and   am   not 

silent. 

(3.)     But  thou  are  holy. —  (XXII  Psalm.) 

THE  MONKS  (Breaking  into  the  song.) 
(1.)     Plead  my  cause,   Oh  Lord,   with   them  that 
strive  with  me,  fight  against  them  that  fight  against 
me. 

(2.)     Take  hold  of  shield  and  buckler  and  stand 
for  mine  help. 

(3.)     Draw  out  also  the  spear  and  stop  the  way 
against  them  that  persecute  me. — (XXXV  Psalm.) 
(In   the  meantime,   the  Patriarch   has  resumed   his 
march.     Several  friars  with  tracts  mingle  with 
the  crusaders.) 

LUCIFEB. 

Why  standest  thou,  so  dumb  and  fearful,  say! 
See'st  thou  a  tragedy?    As  comedy 
If  thou  dost  view  it,  'twill  amuse  thee  well. 

ADAM. 

Ah,  do  not  jest !  So  for  an  "  i ",  they  go 
Resignedly  to  death!  What  then  is  high, 
And  what  is  great? 

LUCIFER. 

That  which  perchance  to  others 
Is  ridiculous.     'Tis  but  a  hair 
That  these  two  conceptions  doth  divide; 
A  chord  within  the  heart,  that  gives  the  verdict; 


THE    TRAGEDY  96 

OF    MAN 

That  judge  mysterious,  called  sympathy, 
Which  defies,  or  killeth  with  contempt. 

ADAM. 

But  why  must  all  this  sin  before  me  rise, 
This  trivial  strife  in  wisdom's  proud  domain, 
This  fatal  venom,  masterfully  drawn 
From  out  the  brightest  and  the  freshest  flower? 
And  once  I  knew  this  blossom  fair,  in  days 
Of  our  blest  faith's  maturing  time.     Who  was 
The  culprit  who  hath  crushed  it  to  the  earth? 

LUCIFER. 

This  culprit  was  but  victory  itself, 
Which  through  a  thousand  interests,  divides, 
While  peril  binds  and  strengthens,  thus  creating 
Martyrs,  as  among  those  heretics 
One  sees. 

ADAM. 

In  truth,  I'd  cast  aside  my  sword, 
And  northward  to  my  native  land  would  I 
Return,  where  in  the  shade  of  ancient  forests, 
Honor  and  pure  simplicity  still  live, 
— Despite  the  subtle  poison  of  the  times, — 
But  for  a  voice  that  whispers  to  my  soul ; 
To  me,  'tis  given,  to  reform  the  age. 

LUCIFEB. 

Vain  effort!     As  an  individual, 
You  wilt  accomplish  naught  against  the  age ; 
'Tis  a  stream,  which  bears  along,  or  sinks; 
Wherein  each  one  must  swim,  and  none  control. 
Those  whom  the  chronicler  calls  great,  are  those 
Who  comprehend  their  time,  but  give  not  birth 
To  new  ideas,  for  never  comes  the  dawn 


97  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

At  crowing  of  the  cock,  but  when  the  dawn 
Approaches,  then  the  cock  doth  crow.     See!  those 
Who  in  their  fetters  rush  to  martyrdom, 
With     scorn  upon  them  heaped,  a  generation 
In  advance  can  see ;  now  'bout  them,  dawn 
Ideas  new,  for  which  they  die ;  their  offspring 
Will  imbibe  them  with  the  air,  unwitting. 
But  leave  we  this,  and  look  a  little,  there 
Toward  thy  camp.     What  do  those  dirty  monks? 
What  wares  sell  they?    Of  what,  then,  do  they  prate, 
To  that  accompaniment  of  gestures  wild? 
Come,  let  us  list. 

A   MONK. 

Brave   warriors    and    knights 

Here  is  your  greatest  chance.     This  book  indites 
What's  to  be  done  in  your  most  sorry  plights ; 
This  book  will  show  how  long  your  souls  in  hell 
For  theft,  or  for  church  robbery  must  dwell ; 
How  long  for  fornication  or  for  rape. 
It  teaches  also,  how  you  can  escape 
Hell's  tortures,  by  the  payment    of  a  fine ; 
How  much  it  is,  this  book  will  here  define. 
The  rich  man  pays  each  year,  a  score  and  odd 
Soldi,  though  the  poor  appeases  God 
With  three ;  and  if  he  cannot  pay  e'en  three, 
The  peace  of  his  poor  soul  may  purchased  be, 
By  several  thousand  lashes  well  applied. 
Come,  buy  my  books,  your  conduct's  surest  guide. 

THE   CRUSADERS. 
This  way  with  it  to  us,  here,  saintly  father! 

ADAM. 

You  wicked  purchasers,  and  sellers  too! 
Quick,  draw  the  sword,  and  scatter  this  vile  market. 


THE    TRAGEDY  98 

OF    MAN 

LUCIFER. 

Your  pardon,  but  this  monk  is  my  old  comrade 

And  I  dislike  not  men  like  unto  this. 

If  thus,  God's  glory  can  be  heightened,  then 

Thereby,  mine  own  is  raised  proportionately; 

'Tis  thou  who  art  a  little  in  the  lurch. 

(Eve,  as  Isaum,  with  Helen  her  maid,  rushes,  sob- 
bing, to  Adam,  followed  by  crusaders,  who  steal 
away. ) 

EVE   (Swooning.) 

Protect  me,   hero! 

ADAM    (Lifting  lier  up.) 
Rise,  O  noble  dame! 

Here  art  thou  safe,  but  raise  those  beauteous  eyes 
Entrancing!     Ah!  what  hath  befallen  her? 

HELEN. 

We  were  enjoying  nature's  beauties  there, 
Within  our  garden's  deepest   shaded  bower ; 
While  thoughtless  resting  on  the  turf  an  hour, 
We  listened  to  the  nightingale,  with  keen 
Delight,  and  sang  ourselves,  when  lo !  between 
The  shrubs,  appeared  two  burning  lustful  eyes ; 
Affrighted,  we  had  but  the  time  to  rise 
And  run,  pursued,  oh!  think  of  it — by  four 
Of  your  crusaders  we  had  not  seen  before, 
And  panting,  with  tremendous  strides,  they  flew 
And  almost  caught  us,  when  we  came  to  you. 

ADAM. 

1  scarcely  know  if  I  could  breathe  a  prayer, 
For  her  to  wake ;  she  like  a  vision  fair, 
Mi^ht  vanish.     How  can  a  body  be  so  noble, 
Spiritual,  and  adorable? 


THE   TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

Spiritual  body!     Fate  indeed, 

Could  not  chastise  the  lover  more  than  heed 

His  insane  wishes,  make  him  realize 

All  that  in  her  he  doth  idealize. 

ADAM. 

Methinks,  e'er  this,  that  thou  to  me  wert  known, 
That  we  together  stood,  before  God's  throne. 

LUCIFER. 

By  all  things,  I  beseech  thee,  when  alone, 
Make  love  as  pleaseth  thee,  and  sigh  and  moan. 
That  which  delectable  may  be,  for  two, 
Is  to  a  third,  insipid,  that  eschew. 

ADAM. 
She  wakes — she  smiles!     I  thank  thee,  God  on  high. 

EVE. 

For  saving  me,  brave  knight,  how  e'er  can  I 
Thank  thee? 

ADAM. 
Thy  gentle  speech  is  sweet  reward. 

LUCIFEB  (To  Helen.) 
Meager  enough.    But  dost  thou  regard 
My  claim  in  gratitude  from  thee? 

HELEN. 

That's  good! 
Why  do  I  owe  thee  any  gratitude? 


THE    TRAGEDY  100 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFER. 

Dost  think,  that  where  the  knight  saves  lady  fair, 
He  also  saves  the  abigail?     I  swear, 
That's  vain  conceit     If  dames  are  saved  by  knights, 
Then  for  the  ladies'  maids  the  esquire  fights. 


HELEN. 

What  do  I  gain?    If  grateful  I  to  thee 
It  is  as  if  thou  had'st  not  rescued  me; 
If  not,  still,  I  were  damned.     The  four  men  who 
Pursued  us  now,  to  give  them  their  just  due, — 
Were  after  all  not  ill. 

ADAM. 

Fair  lady  where 
iWilt  thou  be  led? 

EVE. 

Before  us  over  there, 
The  convent's  door. 

ADAM. 

The  convent's  door,  hast  said? 
Shall  with  its  closing  all  my  hopes  have  fled? 
A  token  give  me,  pray,  which  I  may  tie 
Here  to  my  cross,  and  let  it  signify 
That  while  for  Christ  and  his  great  cause  I  fight 
'T  will  bring  again  this  dream,  so  fair,  so  bright 
That  not  too  wearisome  the  waiting  be 
The  years,  beyond  which,  beckoneth  to  me 
The  prize. 

EVE. 
Here,  take  this  ribbon. 


101  THE  'TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

But  'tis  dark, 

Not  woe  give  me,  fair  lady,  but  the  spark 
Of  hope. 

EVE. 

My  pledge  it  is,  for  I  in  darkness  grope. 
Within  the  convent's  walls,  there  is  no  hope. 

ADAM. 

Nor  love;  and  yet  where  e'er  thou  art,  sweet  maid, 
There  must  be  love.    Thou  art  not  yet  arrayed 
As  nun? 

EVE. 

With  questions  cause  me  no  more  woe ; 
For  grieve  I  must,  to  see  thy  sadness  grow. 

LUCIFER   (To  Helen.) 
And  will  the  convent  door  close  too  on  thee? 

HELEN. 

Of  course,  but  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
The  key's  not  thrown. 

LUCIFEB. 

A  thousand  pities  too, 
For  what  fine  elegies  I  then  might  hew. 
From  that  sad  circumstance. 

HELEN. 

Deceiving  wight, 
Begone !  away,  away,  out  of  my  sight ! 

LUCIFEB. 

But  why?    My  love  to  prove,  I  only  strive, 
And  for  the  key,  to  ocean's  depth  I'd  dive. 


THE    TiiAGEDY  102 

OF    MAN 


HELEN. 
Ah!  not  so  much,  ask  I  of  thee. 

LUCIFEB. 

I  go. 

I  feel  the  monster  of  the  deep  below ; 
E'en  now,  he  snaps  at  me. 

HELEN. 

Come  back !     Of  fear, 

I'll  surely  die,  if  thou  depart'st  from  here. 
Thou'lt  find  the  key  upon  my  window  sill. 

ADAM. 

Tell  me  thy  name,  at  least,  my  prayers  I'll  fill 
With  breathings  of  it,  show'ring  blessings  o'er  thee, 
For  thou  permit'st  me  not  thy  misery 
To  share. 

EVE. 

Isaura  is  my  name,  brave  knight ; 
And  what  is  thine?  for  prayers  to  recite, 
The  nun  beseems. 

ADAM. 
Tancred  am  I. 

EVE. 
God  be 
With  thee,  Tancred. 

ADAM. 

Oh!   go  not!   hear  my  plea, 
Isaura,  or  I'll  curse  the  name  which  I 
First  heard  thee  utter,  in  the  sad  good-bye. 
Swift  passed  the  moment,  even  for  a  dream ; 
If  I  Ktaow  not  the  mystic  golden  seam 


103  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Of  thy  dark  fate,  I  cannot  even  weave 
This  dream  into  a  picture  fair,  believe. 

EVE. 

My  father  for  the  Holy  Grave  did  fight, 
While  in  his  camp  'mong  savages,  one  night 
The  brutal  foe  came  on  him  unaware; 
Seeing  no  hope,  he  solemnly  did  swear 
Upon  the  cross,  that  should  he  win  the  strife, 
And  to  his  home  return  again,  in  life, 
He'd  dedicate  to  Virgin  Mary  mild 
His  little  child,  myself. — Good  fortune  smiled, 
He  won.     Returning,  he  renewed  his  vow 
Upon  the  Blessed  Host,  and  I  did  bow 
My  will. 

ADAM. 

O  Holy  Mother,  far  above, 
Thou  pure  embodiment  of  holy  love! 
And  did'st  thou  then,  not  sore  offended,  turn 
From  that  unholy  vow,  and  did'st  not  spurn 
Those,  who  of  thy  most  godlike  virtue,  dare 
To  make  but  beastly  mockery  and  snare, 
And  change  Heaven's  richest  grace  into  a  curse? 

HELEN. 
To  hear  my  story  now,  art  thou  averse? 

LUCIFER. 

The  story  of  thy  life,  I  know  is  this, 
Thou  lov'dst  and  wert  betrayed,  but  not  amiss, 
Thou  lov'dst  again,  this  time  thou  didst  deceive? 
Then  still  another  love,  who  I  believe 
But  bored  and  wearied  thee.     Thy  heart's  now  void 
And  waits,  with  a  new  love  to  be  employed. 


THE    TRAGEDY  104 

OF    MAN 


HELEN. 

Peculiar!     Is  the  devil  himself  in  thee? 
But,  that  thou  couldst  believe  my  heart  were  free 
At  present,  did  I  not  think  thee  so  poor. 

LUCIFER. 

My  Lord,  make  haste,  for  thou  can'st  not  endure 
The  sad  words  of  the  last  farewell  to  bid, 
While  of  my  conquest,  I  can  scarce  get  rid. 

ADAM   (To  Eve.) 

Each  word  of  thine  is  like  a  poisoned  dart 
Give  me  one  kiss,  to  heal  my  wounded  heart. 

EVE. 

Brave  knight,  what  dost  thou  ask?     Thou'st  heard 
my  vow. 

ADAM. 
Ay !  but  my  love  for  thee,  thou  must  allow. 

EVE. 

Thou  art,  or  can'st  be  happy  yet,  but  how 
Can  I  forget?     My  strength  is  waning  now ; 
I  go* — farewell — we'll  meet  in  Heaven  some  day. 

ADAM. 

Farewell.     The  memory  of  this  hour,  for  aye 
I'll  guard. 

HELEN. 

Ah!  coward,  must  I  do  all!  (aloud.)     The  key, 
Will  in  the  window  be,  not  in  the  sea. 

ADAM   (Rousing  himself.) 
Now*et  us  go. 


106  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

It's  late,  and  all  is  o'er. 

Such  is  thine  insane  race;  from  shore  to  shore 
They  float     Women,  you  men  regard  one  day 
As  tools,  to  satisfy  the  lustful  play 
Of  all  your  beastly  passions,  with  brute  glee 
You  wrest  the  pollen  of  the  poetry 
From  her  fair  cheek,  robbing  yourselves,  thereby 
Of  love's  most  precious  blossom.     Ah!  what  fools 
You  are !     Another  sentiment  then  rules : 
To-morrow,  then,  you  place  her  side  by  side 
With  God,  upon  his  altar  deified! 
For  her  ye  vainly  strive  brave  war's  alarms, 
Until  unfruitful,  fade  her  sterile  charms, 
But  why  not  recognize  her,  honor  too, 
In  her  own  woman's  sphere,  as  is  her  due? 
(In  the  meantime,  it   has  grown  dark.     The  moon 
rises.    Isaura  and  Helen  at  the  window.) 

EVE. 

How  longingly  he  gazed,  this  hero  brave, 
E'en  trembled  as  so  lovingly  he  gave 
His  promise  sweet,  but  virtue  and  my  vow, 
But  sacrifice  and  suffering  allow. 

HELEN. 

'Tis  wonderful,  how  foolish  is  our  sex! 
If  prejudices,  which  harass  and  vex, 
We  overcome,  we  run  like  to  the  brute 
To  satisfy  our  lust:   each  attribute 
Of  worth  eschew  and  sink  into  the  mire. 
And  if  not  so,  if  we  curb  all  desire, 
Then  of  our  shadows  e'en  afraid  we  are. 
Ourselves  of  all  delights  of  love  debar, 


THE    TRAGEDY  106 

OF    MAN 

And  suffer  all  our  charms  to  fade  and  dry, 
Ourselves  and  others,  sweetest  joys  deny. 
Why  follow  not  a  medium  line  or  road? 
What's  wrong,  in  just   a   harmless  episode? 
A  tender  scene,  in  strict  propriety? 
But  woman's  soul,  extremes  alone  can  see. 

EVE. 

Helen,  look!     See,  is  he  still  standing  here 
For  how  could  he  so  quickly  disappear? 
Oh,  how  I  long  for  his  dear  voice,  the  sound. 

ADAM  (To  Lucifer.) 

Is  she  still  at  the  window!  Look  around! 
Will  she  not  then  one  glance  send  after  me? 
Once  more  would  I  her  radiant  beauty  see. 
Isaura,  pardon  me  that  still  I'm  here. 

EVE. 

For  both  of  us,  'twere  better  if  elsewhere 
Thou  wert.    The  heart's  wounds  quickly  heal,  but  stir 
The  heart  strings,  sorrows  new  we  then  incur. 

ADAM. 

And  fear'st  thou  not  to  look  upon  the  night, 
Which   like   a   mighty   heart  with  love   replete, 
Doth  throb,  where  all  but  we  in  love  delight? 
Fair  nature's  voice,  will  it  not  rouse  the  sweet, 
The  magic  charm  of  love? 

EVE. 

All   this,   believe, 

I,  too,  as  in  a  fairy  dream,  perceive, 
A  vision,  as  it  were.  On  wings  of  air 
I  l&ar  in  dulcet  tones  a  song  most  fair; 


107  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

I  see  the  smiling  genii  legionvvise, 
From  flow'ring  chalice  and  from  shrub  arise, 
Fraternal  kisses  sending  o'er  and  o'er; 
But  Tancred,  they  will  speak  to  us  no  more. 

ADAM. 

Why  no!     Why  not?     Withstand  can  this  frail  wall, 
The  arm,  which  many  a  bulwark  caused  to  fall, 
In  pagan  lands? 

LUCIFEB. 

The   age   to   thee,   saith  "  No !  " 
And  stronger   'tis   than   thou. 

ADAM. 

Who  saith  'tis  so? 
(In  the  rear  the  fires  of  the  friars  have  been  lit.) 

THE  HERETICS   (Singing  in  the  distance.) 

(21.) 

Deliver  my  soul  from  the  sword,   my  darling  from 
the  power  of  the  dog. 

(22.) 

Save  me  from  the  lion's  mouth,  for  thou  hast  heard 
me  from  the  horns  of  the  unicorns. 

(23.) 

I   will  declare  thy  name  unto  my  brethren,  in  the 
midst  of  the  congregation  I  will  praise  thee. 

EVE. 
Have  mercy,  God,  upon  their  sinful  souls! 

ADAM    (Horrified.) 
That  awful   song! 

LUCIFEB. 
Your  nuptial  hymn  dost  hear. 


THE    TRAGEDY  108 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Ah,  be  it  as  it  may !  for  thee,  sweet  maid, 
All  things  to  suffer,  I  would  have  no  fear. 

THE   MONKS. 

(26.) 

Let  them  be  ashamed  and  brought  to  confusion  to- 
gether that  rejoice  in  my  hurt. 

(27.) 

Let  them  shout  for  joy  and  be  glad  that  favor  my 
righteous  course,  yea  let  them  say  continually: 
Let  the  Lord  be  magnified,  which  hath  pleasure  in 
the  prosperity  of  his  servant. 

(At  the  beginning  of  this  psalm  Adam  had  stepped  in 
front  of  the  convent  door.  From  the  tower  comes 
the  shriek  of  an  owl,  witches  descend  from  all 
around,  and  in  front  of  Adam  a  skeleton  rises 
from  the  ground,  and  stands,  threatening.) 

EVE    (Slamming  the  window.) 
Oh,  help  me  God! 

THE  SKELETON. 
From  this  sacred  threshold,  go! 

ADAM. 
Who  art  thou,  spectre? 

SKELETON. 

He  who  will  bestow 

His  presence  on  thee,  in  her  ev'ry  kiss, 
And  each  embrace  thou  stealest  for  thy  bliss. 

WITCHES    ( Jeeringly. ) 
Bitter  harvest  from  sweet  seeds ; 


109  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

With  the  dove,  the  serpent  breeds. 
Isaura,  thee  we  call! 

ADAM. 

What  hideous  shapes! 

Are  ye  transformed,  or  I?    I  knew  you  once, 
When  ye  did  smile.    What  is  reality 
And  what,  delusion?    And  how  your  magic  now 
Enervates  me! 

LUCIFER. 

How   unexpectedly 
I   came  upon  this  dear  society. 
How  long  have  I  awaited  this  great  pleasure, 
This  lovely  cohort  of  wTell-mannered  witches. 
The  naked  nymphs  in  boldness  far  excelling; 
And  this  old  comrade,  spectral  death,  repulsive 
Unto  the  sons  of  earth,  doth  parody 
Stern  virtue.     Greetings,  all ;  a  pity  'tis, 
That  I  may  not  with  you  in  gossiping 
Here  pass  the  night.     (The  apparitions  vanish.) 

Up,  Tancred!   thy  beloved 

Has  closed  her  window.    Why  stand  we  in  the  night? 
The  breeze  is  chill,  and  thy  reward  will  be, 
The  gout.    Besides,  Helen  will  soon  be  here, 
And  what  then  can  I  do?     Methinks  the  devil 
May  never  fall  in  love  and  make  himself 
Ridiculous  forever,  less'ning  thus 
His  power.     'Tis  marvelous  that  thus,  mankind 
With  burning,  with  intense  desire,  doth  yearn 
For  love,  yet  reapeth  sorrow ;  but  the  devil 
Alone  with  icy  heart  is  able,  thus, 
In  time,  from  all  to  extricate  himself. 

ADAM. 

Ah!  bear  me,  Lucifer,  to  a  new  life. 
For  holy  aims  I  have  endured  the  strife, 


THE    TRAGEDY  110 

OF    MAN 

And  curses  found,  of  misconceptions  born; 
And  for  the  glory  of  our  God — what  scorn — 
They're  burning  men  alive!     Oh,  how  I  tried 
For  men,  enjoyments  nobler  to  provide; 
To  which,  howe'er,  they  ruthless  applied 
The  stamp.     "  This  is  a  sin."     I  planted  deep 
The  love  of  knightly  virtues,  tried  to  keep 
The  standard  high.    Ah!  she  herself  applied 
The  deadly  poniard,  and  my  love  has  died. 
Away  from  here,  away!     Let  me  be  hurled 
Into  a  new,  into  another  world. 
I've  proven  well  my  worth,  and  shown  that  I 
Could  bravely  fight,  and  could  myself  deny 
That  which  was  dear  to  me.     I'm  not  ashamed 
To  leave  the  place  which  I  so  boldly  claimed. 
Naught  more  in  me,  shall  inspiration's  glow 
Again  arouse.     Let  all  things  come  and  go; 
The  earth  roll  on,  be  it  for  woe  or  weal, 
I  shall  not  try  to  regulate  its  wheel. 
Indifferently  I'll  look  on,  nor  care 
For  aught;  so  let  repose  be  now  my  share. 

LUCIFEB. 

Then  take  thy  rest,  but  I  can  scarce  believe 
Thy  spirit's  restless  force  will  grant  reprieve 
For  long,  and  strife  again  will  conquer  thee 
In  thy  repose.     Come,  Adam,  follow  me! 


Ill  THE  TRAGEDY 

OP  MAN 

SCENE  VII. 

(Prague.  The  garden  of  the  imperial  palace.  To  the 
right,  a  lower;  to  the  left,  an  observatory,  in 
front  of  which  is  a  broad,  low  window,  with 
Kepler's  writing  desk.  Chairs  and  astronomical 
appliances.  Lucifer,  as  Kepler's  famulus  on  the 
podium.  Courtiers  and  ladies  walking  about  in 
groups  in  the  garden,  among  them  Eve,  as  Bar- 
bara, Kepler's  wife.  The  Emperor  Rudolph  is  in 
earnest  conversation  with  Adam,  as  Kepler.  In 
the  distance  a  burning  stake,  at  which  a  heretic 
is  being  put  to  death.  Evening;  later,  night. 
Two  courtiers  pass  in  the  foreground.) 

FIEST  COURTIER. 
Who's  warming  yonder,  heretic  or  witch? 

SECOND  COURTIER. 

I  do  not  know.    No  longer  'tis  the  mode 
To  take  the  interest  we  erstwhile  felt. 
The  commonfolk  alone  now  gather  'round 
The  stake,  but  not  e'en  they  because  of  joy ; 
They  only  look,  and  murmur  to  themselves. 

FIRST  COURTIER. 

In  my  time,  such  events  were  festivals, 
And  all  the  court  and  the  nobility, 
The   edifying  spectacle  would  view.      (Exeunt.) 

LUCIFER. 

A  fire  on  this  cool  ev'ning  's  not  amiss, 
And  quite  a  while  it  has  been  burning,  too ; 
But  yet,  I  fear, — there  be  strong  likelihood 


THE    TRAGEDY  112 

OF    MAN 

That  it  will  die,  extinguished,  not  by  new 

And  manly  principles ;  there  being  none 

In  their  indifference  to  feed  the  flame 

With  but  a  log;  so  I  must  freeze.     Slight  causes 

Must  e'er  affect  the  fall  of  one  great  thought. 

(Enters  the  tower.) 
(Rudolph   and   Adam   stepping    to    the   foreground.) 

RUDOLPH. 

Now  Kepler,  cast  my  horoscope.     Last  night 
I  had  an  evil  dream,  and  anxious  wait, 
To  know  in  what  conjunction  stands  my  star. 
Misfortunes  in  the  court  rose  in  the  past. 
There,  by  the  Serpent's  head. 

ADAM. 

Thou'lt  see,  my  Lord. 
That  which  thou  dost  command  will  be  obeyed. 

RUDOLPH. 

When  once  the  day's  climacteric  are  o'er, 
We'll  start  anew  the  work  which  we  began ; 
The  work  which  unsuccessful  now  remains. 
But  I  have  been  reading  Hermes  Trismagistus, 
Synesius,  Albertus,  Paracelsus ; 
The  Key  of  Solomon,  and  other  works. 
I  think  I  know  where  the  mistake  was  made ; 
When  we  did  heat  the  black  tellurium, 
The  raven  and  red  lion  did  appear; 
And  then  the  duplex  mercury  developed. 
From  the  conjunction  of  the  planets  twin, 
Descended  in  the  sediment  the  stone 
Of  the  philosophers.     But  then,  we  lacked 
The  liquid  fire,  and  the  dry  water,  too; 
S<*  did  not  gain  the  glorious  result: 


113  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

The  holy  marriage,  which  into  the  veins 

Of  age,  pours  youth,  and  purest  gold  can  make 

From  metal  base. 

ADAM. 
I   comprehend   you,    Sire. 

RUDOLPH. 

Now,  one  word  more!     Evil  reports  of  thee, 
Are  circulating  in  the  court,  that  thou 
To  the  new  doctrines,  hast  attached  thyself; 
The  deeds  of  Holy  Church  dost  criticise. 
Now,  while  thy  mother,  as  an  odious  witch, 
In  prison,  'iieath  the  weightiest  accusation 
Lies,  thou  too,  and  justly,  art  suspected ; 
So  obstinate  and  unremitting,  thou 
Dost  strive  to  gain  her  freedom. 

ADAM. 

Royal   Lord, 
Most  certain  'tis,  I  am  her  son. 

RUDOLPH. 

My  son, 

The  Holy  Church,  a  truer  mother  is, 
This  world  is  good  enough,  just  let  it  be; 
Do  not  attempt  to  make  it  o'er  again. 
Have  I  not  heaped  upon  thee  honors  great? 
Thy  father  was  the  landlord  of  an  inn; 
But  thy  nobility,  beyond  all  doubt 
I  placed,  though  surely  'twas  no  easy  task ; 
I  raised  thee  to  my  throne ;  gave  thee  a  chance 
To  win  the  hand  of  lovely  Barbara  Miiller, 
And  hence  I  say,  be  vigilant,  my  son. 

(Exit.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  114 

OF    MAN 

(Adam,  lost  in  thought,  stands  oy  the  stairway,  lead- 
ing to  his  podium.  Two  courtiers  come  for- 
ward. ) 

THIBD  COURTIER. 

See,  how  absorbed  is  the  astronomer! 

FOURTH  COURTIER. 

'Tis  jealousy  doth  ever  torture  him. 
Poor  fellow!  it  is  evident  that  he 
Cannot  adapt  himself  to  his  new  station, 
But  still  betrays  his   peasant  origin. 

THIRD  COURTIER. 

And  he  cannot  conceive,  that  a  true  knight, 
While  worshiping  a  woman,  only  sees 
A  goddess  pure,  for  whom  he'd  gladly  die; 
If  slander  e'er  so  lightly  touched  her  name, 
His  bosom  waxeth  warm  in  her  defense. 

(EVE — With  another  group,  meeting  the  courtiers, 
laughingly  taps  the  second  courtier  on  the  shoul- 
der with  her  fan.) 

Sir  Knight,  thou  art  a  wag.    Do  cease  thy  jesting ; 
I'll  laugh  myself  to  death  at  thy  droll  speech. 
See  of  those  two,  th'  exceeding  serious  air. 
Then  has  th'  accursed  spirit  of  reform 
Descended  o'er  you,  too?     Out  of  my  sight! 
For  I  cannot  endure  the  sight  of  men 
Who  so  begrudge  us  this  bright,  peaceful  world, 
And  must  create  a  new  one  of  their  own. 

THIRD  COURTIER. 

Sweet  dame,  this  change  cannot  apply  to  us: 
Wfco'd  wish  for  change  in  such  society? 


115  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


FIRST  COUBTIEB. 

If  I  do  not  mistake,  there  is  a  man. 
Upon  whose  face  is  stamped  this  sign  of  gloom. 

EVE. 

My  husband,  he,  poor  man?    Oh,  gentlemen, 
For  God's  sake,  in  my  presence,  let  him  be, 
From  all  suspicion  free,  for  I  to  him 
Am  pledged,  by  the  most  holy  tie.     He's  ill, — 
'Tis  certain,  very  ill. 

SECOND  COUBTIER. 
'Tis  not  surprising; 
He  fell  a  victim  to  thy  lustrous  eyes. 

THIRD  COURTIER. 

Indeed!     That  which  none  other  dares,  does  he — 
Too  jealously  suspect  his  wife?     I  swear 
I'd  happy  be,  if  I  could,  as  thy  knight, 
The  gauntlet  throwing,  challenge  him  to  combat. 

(By  this  time  they  reach  Adam.) 
Ah!  Master,  'tis  good  fortune  that  we  meet. 
I  wish  to  journey  to  my  country  seat, 
And  fain  would  have  the  weather  prophecies. 

FIRST  COURTIER. 

And  for  my  son,  I'd  have  thee  read  the  stars; 
Last  night,  past  midnight,  to  the  world  he  came. 

ADAM. 
To-morrow  morn,  Sirs,  both  will  be  prepared. 

FOURTH  COURTIER. 
The  company  depart;  let  us  go,  too. 


THE    TRAGEDY  116 

OF    MAN 


THIRD  COURTIER. 

Here  is  the  stairway,  I  bid  thee  good-night. 
(Whispering.)     An  hour  from  now. 

EVE    (Whispering.) 

The  bower  at  the  right. 

(Aloud) 

Good-night  to  all  of  you.     Come,  my  dear  John. 

(All  go;  Adam  and  Eve  on  the  podium;  Adam 
throws  himself  into  a  large  armchair;  Eve  stands 
before  him.  It  grows  darker  and  darker.) 

EVE. 
I  need  some  money,  John. 

ADAM. 

Hast  thou   not  drawn 
Already,  all  I  had? 

EVE. 

Must  I  then  e'er, 
From  poverty,  be  made  a  sufferer? 
The  ladies  of  the  court  resplendent  are, 
As  peacocks  gay,  while  I  must  feel  ashamed, 
Before  them  to  appear;  and  when  sometimes 
A  courtier,  before  me,  bowing  low, 
Doth  smiling  call  me  queen  among  the  fair, 
I  must  feel  shame  for  him  who  thus  to  court 
Doth  send  his  queen. 

ADAM. 

Do  I  not  day  and  night, 
My  learning  market,  but  for  thee?  foretell 
The  weather's  course,  and  e'en  besmirch  myself 
By  reading  horoscopes,  the  truth  deny, 
Proclaiming  that  which  well  I  know  is  false? 


117  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

And  I  must  blush,  for  worse  have  I  become, 
Thau  were  the  sybils,  who  at  least  believed 
Their  prophecies,  while  I  do  not  believe. 
And  yet,  I  do  this  for  thy  sake  alone; 
To  please  but  thee,  do  I  receive  the  wage 
Of  sin.     Naught  do  I  want,  beneath  the  sky, 
Except  the  mystic  music  of  the  spheres; 
The  rest  is  thine.    The  emperor  is  poor, 
But  when  I  importune  him,  he  will  pay, 
And  that  which  on  the  morrow  I  receive 
Is  thine.    But,  wife,  I  notice  with  regret, 
That  thou  ungrateful  art. 

EVE   (Weeping.) 
Dost  thou  forget, 

While  boasting  of  thy  sacrifice,  that  I 
Have  sacrificed  for  thee,  a  great  deal  more? 
Thy  rank  was  doubtful,  but  my  own  was  high; 
But  e'en  this  difference,  I  did  o'erlook, 
And  married  thee,  enabling  thee  thereby, 
To  rise.     Deny,  then,  ingrate,  if  thou  can'st, 
All  this. 

ADAM. 

Is  knowledge  then  of  doubtful   rank? 
Doubtful,  the  ray  which  from  high  heaven  descends 
Upon  my  brow?    Is  aught  more  noble  then, 
Than  this?    That  which  ye  designate  as  noble, 
A  dying  idol  is,  which  soon  will  fall ; 
But  my  nobility  will  live  for  aye, 
The  heir  of  strength  and  of  eternal  youth. 
Ah!  woman,  if  thou  could'st  but  understand; 
A  kindred  soul  had'st  thou,  as  pure  and  grand 
As  I  believed,  when  I  the  first  kiss  gave 
To  thee,  ah!  then,  thou  would'st  be  proud  of  me, 
And  would'st  not  seek,  thy  happiness  to  find, 


THE    TRAGEDY  118 

OF    MAN 

Elsewhere  than  in  my  heart,  where  thou'rt  enshrined ; 
Thou  would'st  not  give  thy  sweetness  to  the  world, 
And  to  thy  hearthstone  all  the  bitterness. 
Oh !  woman !  boundless  was  my  love  for  thee ; 
I  love  thee  even  now,  though  to  despair 
I'm  driven  by  the  bitter  in  the  sweet 
Of  this  love's  honeycomb.     It  pains  my  heart, 
To  know  how  noble  could  thy  soul  have  been, 
Most  womanly  of  women,  a  true  queen, — 
Did  fate  not  ruthless  intervene.     'Tis  true; 
Now,  woman  is  a  toy  divinity, 
Where  knighthood  her,  as  a  fair  goddess  knew ; 
But  then) — 'twas  a  great  age — the  knights  believed 
In  womanhood.     To-day — a  pigmy  race — 
No  one  believes ;  and  this  idolatry 
Is  but  a  cloak  for  foul  iniquities. 
I'd  grant  thee  a  divorce,  tear  out  my  heart, 
Ah!  though  it  would  pain — I'd  bravely  do  my  part; 
I  would  submit,  if  thou  but  happy  wert ; 
But  there's  the  well-established  rule  and  law, 
The  church,  which  holds  us  in  her  iron  grasp, 
And  we  till  death,  each  other  must  endure. 
(Rests  his  head  in  his  hands.     Eve  gently  pats  his 
head.) 

EVE. 

No,  my  dear  John!  Subdue,  I  pray,  thy  grief. 
If  now  and  then  I  say  some  things  that  hurt, 
I  do  not  give  thee  sorrow,  wittingly ; 
You  see,  peculiar  are  they  at  the  court; 
The  dames  so  proud  and  scornful,  mock  and  jeer,f 
And  shall  I  set  myself  against  them  all? 
There  is  no  anger,  now  between  us,  is  there? 
Good-night!     The  money  don't  forget,  at  morn. 

(Goes  down  the  stairs  into  the  garden.) 


119  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

What  strange  commingling  of  evil  and  of  good, 
Of  honey  and  of  venom  woman  is ; 
Most  wonderful!  and  why  does  she  attract? 
Because  the  good  in  her,  is  of  herself. 
The  evil  of  the  age  that  gave  her  birth. 
Hey,  famulus! 

(Lucifer  enters,  with  a  lamp,  which  he  places  on  the 
table.) 

LUCIFER. 
Dost  thou  command,  my  master? 

ADAM. 

The  weather  prophecies,  and  horoscope 
Of  birth,  I  need.     Prepare  them  speedily. 

LUCIFER. 

Of  course,  one  must  be  fair,  the  other  bright ; 
For  who  wants  for  his  money,  homely  birth? 

ADAM. 
But  still,  not  to  improbability. 

LUCIFER. 

Such  things,  as  would  a  parent  scandalize, 
I  never  could  invent.     A  new  Messiah 
Is  not  each  newborn  child?  a  shining  star 
On  the  horizon  of  the  family  rising, 
But  later,  to  a  scamp  developing?  (Writes.) 

(Eve   has   come   to   the   bower.     The   third   courtier 
meets  her.) 

THIRD  COURTIER. 
'Tis  cruel,  thus  to  let  me  languish  here. 


THE    TRAGEDY  120 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

Perhaps  too  great,  the  sacrifice  may  be, 
T'  endure  the  chill  nightwind,  while  I  deceive 
A  noble  spouse,  and  to  the  curse  of  Heaven, 
And  censure  of  the  world,  expose  myself. 

COUBTIEB. 

Ah!  Heaven's  curse,  the  censure  of  the  world, 
Rule  not,  within  this  dark  and  hidden  bower. 

ADAM    (musing.) 

I  sought  an  age,  wherein  there  was  no  strife ; 
Wherein  the  beaten  path  of  social  order, 
And  sacred  judgment  were  by  none  disturbed 
That  I  might  find  repose,  with  guileless  joy 
And  healing,  for  the  wounds  of  warfare  long. 
'Tis  here;  but  what  avails  it,  if  the  soul 
Still  live,  this  holy  immortality 
Of  pain,  which,  foolish  man,  as  heritage 
From  Heaven  hath  received;  which  longs  for  action, 
Giving  no  repose,  but  rising  e'er 
To  combat  slothful  lust.    Hey !  bring  me  wine 
My  famulus!  for  'tis  a  frosty  earth, 
And  I  must  warm  it.    In  this  puny  age, 
In  this  wise,  must  we  call  forth  inspiration, 
That  from  corrupted  clay  we  may  escape. 
(Lucifer  brings  wine.    Adam  drinks  until  the  close  of 

the  scene.) 

Unfold !  unfold !  O  boundless  Heaven  on  high, 
The  leaves  of  thy  mysterious  book,  that  I 
Of  thy  laws,  here  and  there,  may  find  a  trace, 
While  I  forget  all  things  of  time  and  space. 
Thou  art  eternal ;  transitory  they ; 
Tlmu  raises!,  while  they  drag  the  earthward  way. 


121  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


COUBTIEB. 

Oh,  Barbara!  if  thou  could'st  be  my  own! 
If  God  would  call  thy  spouse  unto  himself, 
Into  that  Heaven,  which  he  doth  know  so  well, 
And  which  to  know,  his  whole  life  he  has  toiled. 

EVE. 

Be  silent,  knight!     So  great  my  sorrow  were, 
That  for  my  tears,  I  could  not  even  kiss  thee. 

COUBTIEB. 
Thou'rt  jesting. 

EVE. 
I  am  speaking  but  the  truth. 

COUBTIEB. 

Who  comprehends  this  enigmatic  mood? 
Oh!  Barbara!  certain  'tis,  thou  lov'st  me  not; 
Or  say,  if  exile  were  to  be  my  lot, 
If  poor,  what  would'st  thou  do,  to  prove  thy  faith? 

EVE. 
Most  certainly,  I  cannot  tell  that  now. 

ADAM. 

Oh!  will  there  come  a  time,  which  shall  dissolve 
This  cold  indifference,  therefrom  evolve 
New  energies,  look  boldly  in  the  face 
Of  all  this  antiquated  rubbish  base, 
To  judge  and  to  reward,  to  onward  press, 
Nor  fearing  dreadful  means,  dare  to  express 
The  hidden  thought,  which  will  its  course  pursue 
Like  some  great  avalanche,  the  prophet  too 
To  crush,  who  first  did  utter  it!     I  hear, 


THE    TRAGEDY  122 

OF    MAN 

(The  strains  of  the  Marseillaise  are  heard.) 
I  hear  the  song  of  future  days,  so  clear, 
That  powerful  talisman,  that  will  efface 
The  earth's  decrepitude,  renew  the  race. 


SCENE    IX. 

(The  scene  changes  suddenly  to  the  Place  de  Greve 
in  Paris.  The  balcony  is  transformed  into  a 
guillotine-podium;  the  writing  desk  into  a  guillo- 
tine, at  the  side  of  which  sits  Lucifer,  as  hang- 
man. Adam  as  Danton,  speaks  from  the  end  of 
the  balcony  to  the  noisy  crowd  below.  Amidst 
the  beating  of  a  drum  <a  very  ragged  crowd  of 
recruits  take  their  position  about  the  stand. 
Bright  day.) 

ADAM    ( Continuing. ) 
Freedom,  equality,  fraternity ! 

THE   CROWD    BELOW. 
Death  unto  him  who  does  not  recognize  them! 

ADAM. 

Thus  say  I,  too — Two  words  alone,  have  saved 
The  great  idea,  threatened  on  all  sides. 
Unto  the  true,  we  say  but  this :  "  The  land 
In  peril  is,"  and  they  awake; — we  thunder 
Unto  the  wicked,  one  word — "  Tremble !  " — they  fall. 
The  kings  'gainst  us  did  rise ;  to  them,  we  threw 
Our  sovereign's  head;  and  when  the  clergy  rose, 
Wrenching  their  fulminations  from  their  hands, 
We  placed  upon  her  throne,  long  persecuted 


123  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Reason.     But  the  second  call,  our  country 
Sends  unto  the  true,  dies  not  away. 
Eleven  regiments  now  on  the  confines 
Fight;  and  constantly,  our  valiant  youth 
Are  pressing  forward,  the  fallen  heroes,  thus 
Replacing.    Who  can  say,  bloodthirsty  fury 
Will  decimate  the  nation?    If  hot  the  metal, 
The  dross  falls  off,  the  nobler  part  remains. 
What  matter  if  bloodthirsty  now  we  be, 
As  monsters  may  they  even  look  upon  us, 
If  but  the  land  be  great  and  free? 

RECRUITS. 
Weapons ! 
Give  us  but  weapons,  and  a  generall — 

ADAM. 

How  brave !     And  yet  your  further  needs  alarm 
All  patriots ;  your  clothes  in  rags,  and  bare 
Your  feet,  but  willing,  all  these  needs  to  suffer, 
With  bayonets  you'll  gain  great  victories, 
And  all  you  need ;  for  you  will  win ;  the  people 
Are  invincible.     On  the  guillotine 
An  army  leader's  blood  was  seen  to  flow, 
For  he  allowed  himself  to  be  defeated. 

THE   PEOPLE. 
A  traitor  he! 

ADAM. 

Well  said!     We  all  agree. 
No  other  treasure  has  the  populace 
Than  their  blood,   which  they  magnanimously, 
Prodigally  shed  for  fatherland. 
And  who  this  richest  treasure  'neath  the  sun 


THE    TRAGEDY  124 

OF    MAN 

Commands,  and  fails  to  conquer  all  the  world, 
A  dastard  mean,  or  traitor  base  must  be. 

(An  officer  steps  forth  from  among  the  recruits.) 

OFFICER. 

In  place  of  "him,  to  lead,  is  my  great  aim, 
Name  me,  Danton,  and  I'll  wipe  out  the  shame. 

ADAM. 

My  friend,  praiseworthy  is  thy  confidence; 
But  an  assurance  that  thou  keep'st  thy  word, 
Before  the  soldiers,  on  the  field,  I  ask. 

OFFICER. 

Assurance  of  success,  lies  in  my  soul ; 
And  have  I  not  a  head,  which  may,  at  least 
Achieve  as  much,  as  that  which  just  did  roll 
Into  the  dust? 

ADAM. 

And  who  doth  guarantee, 
Thou'lt  bring  that  head  to  me,  to  satisfy 
The  law? 

OFFICER. 

What  better  hostage  dost  thou  need 
Than  my  own  life,  which  I  thus  hold  for  naught? 

ADAM. 
Not  so  do  the  recruits  consider  it. 

OFFICER. 
Once  more,  I  do  implore  thee,  citizen! 

ADAM. 
Wfcit  patiently !  thou  yet  wilt  reach  the  goal. 


125  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


OFFICEB. 

Thou  hast  no  confidence?    Well,  will  thy  soul 
Then,  citizen,  think  better  of  me  now? 

(Shoots  himself  in  the  head  and  dies.) 

ADAM. 

A  pity  'tis ;  for  he  deserved  the  bullet 
Of  the  foe.     Remove  the  corpse.     My  friends, 
Farewell,  until  the  victory  be  won. 

(The  recruits  go  away.) 

But  could  I  share  your  fate!    The  strife  is  mine; 
No  glorious  death  at  hand  of  enemy ; 
But  envy  and  intrigue  in  ambush  lie, 
Like  to  a  thief,  to  cause  my  death,  and  that 
Of  their  own  sacred  home. 

CROWD  OF  PEOPLE. 
Whom  dost  thou  dread! 
Name  him,  and  he  shall  be  no  more. 

ADAM. 

The  one 
Whom  I  could  name,  is  now  among  the  dead. 

CBOWD   OF   PEOPLE. 

And  who  are  the  suspected?     Certain,  'tis 
They  guilty  are;  the  people  never  errs. 
Down,  down,  with  the  aristocrats!     Come,  come! 
Let's  to  the  jails,  and  there  in  judgment  sit! 
Our  judgment  is  the  people's  sacred  law. 

(The  crowd  starts  toward  the  jail.) 

ADAM. 
The  danger  lies  not  there!     Strong  are  the  bolts, 


THE    TRAGEDY  126 

OF    MAN 

And  foul  the  air,   which  kills  and   stupefies, 
Dethrones  the  reason ;  these  are  your  allies ; 
We'll  leave  them  to  their  fate.     With  head  erect, 
Bold  treason  stalks,  the  while  it  whets  the  knife, 
E'en  there  upon  the  benches  of  the  Convention. 

CEOWD. 

Then  off  to  the  Convention!  for  not  yet 
Have  they  been  sifted  well ;  but  first,  the  jails 
And  the  Convention  later.     In  the  meantime 
Make  thou  a  list  of  traitors'  names,  Danton! 
(The  crowd  departs,  threatening  on  the  way.    In  the 
meantime,    several    Sansculottes    bring    a    young 
Marquis  and  Eve,  as  his  sister,  in  front  of  the 
stand. ) 

A  SANSCULOTTE. 

Two  young  merry  aristocrats  again  we  bring; 
Their  haughty  mien  and  linen  fine,  proclaim 
Their  guilt 

ADAM. 

And  what  a  noble  pair  it  is! 
Come  nearer,  though,  to  me. 

SANSCULOTTE. 
Now,  let  us  go, 

Where  labor  waits  us,  and  a  deadly  blow 
To  traitors  we  will  give. 

(The  Sansculottes  with  the  rest  of  the  people  go 
away.  The  two  young  people  go  upon  the  bal- 
cony, around  which  a  few  guards  are  watching.) 

ADAM. 

What  secret  force 

Draws  me  to  you?    I'll  save  you  both,  although 
My  risk  is  great. 


127  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


THE  MARQUIS. 
Danton,  if  guilty  we, 
To  save  us  were  an  act  of  treachery ; 
If  innocent  we  are,  we  have  no  need 
Of  thy  vain  mercy. 

ADAM. 

Who  art  thou,  that  thus 
Thou  darest  to  Danton  to  speak? 

THE  MARQUIS. 
Marquis 
Am  I. 

ADAM. 

Stop!   Stop!  dost  thou  not  know  that  now, 
There  is  no  rank  but  that  of  citizen? 

MARQUIS. 

I  had  not  heard,  that  titles,  by  my  king 
Had  been  abolished. 

ADAM. 

Thou  wretch,  do  not  proceed! 
Our  army  enter,  and  thy  way  is  clear. 

MARQUIS. 

I  have  not  from  my  king  the  leave  procured, 
To  enter  foreign  ranks. 

ADAM. 
Then  thou  must  die! 

MARQUIS. 

One  more  then,  of  my  race,  will  for  his  king 
Have  gone  to  death. 


THE    TRAGEDY  128 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Why  dost  so  recklessly 
Rush  to  thy   death? 

MARQUIS. 

And  dost  thou  think  that  life 
To  sacrifice,  is  but  the  privilege 
Of  you,  men  of  the  people? 

ADAM. 

Barest   thou? 

I,  too,  will  dare.     E'en  'gainst  thy  will,  thee  free 
I'll  make;  and  for  this  act,  a  coming  day, 
When  party  passion  holds  no  longer  sway, 
Will  show  me  gratitude.     Come,  national  guards, 
To  my  own  dwelling  take  him,  and  be  ye 
Hostages  for  him. 

(Some  armed  national  guardsmen  lead  the  Marquis 
away. ) 

EVE. 
Be  strong,  my  brother! 

MARQUIS. 
God  bless  thee,  sister!  (Exit.) 

EVE. 

Here !    Take  my  head  also,  not  meaner  'tis 
Than   Roland's. 

ADAM. 

Believe,  it  doth  pain  mine  ear 
From  gentle  lips,  such  language  harsh  to  hear. 

EVE. 
rentier   speech  would   fit  the   guillotine! 


129  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

This  terrible  machine  is  my  own  realm ; 
But  with  thy  coming — 'tis  as  if  of  Heaven, 
Thou'dst  left  a  trace,   that  in  its  sanctity, 
Enshrines  me  now. 

EVE. 

Ne'er   did  the  priests   deride 
Thus  on  their  way,  the  beasts  of  sacrifice. 

ADAM. 

The  sacrifice,  believe  me,  is  myself. 
Believe  me,  power  and  pelf,  all  are  but  sham. 
Bereft  of  joy ;  I  live  and  death  defy, 
All  envy  this,   my  kingly   seat   on   high. 
I  clearly  see,  how  each  hour  of  the  day, 
My  friends  and  foes,  the  penalty  of  life 
Must  pay,  and  wait  my  turn.    Ah !  I  confess, 
'Mid  all  this  blood,  a  certain  loneliness 
I  feel ;  it  saddens  me.     I  cannot  crush 
The  thought,   how  sweet  it  were,   could  I  but  love. 
Oh!  woman,  could'st  thou  teach  me,  just  one  day, 
The  heavenly  science,  peacefully,   the  next 
My  own  head  I  would  lay  beneath  the  knife. 

EVE. 

For  love  thou  yearnest,  in  these  awful  days? 
And  doth  thy  conscience   not   affright  thee? 

ADAM. 

Conscience 

Is  but  of  low  born  men,  the  privilege ; 
But  he  whose  life  is  given  as  a  pledge 
To  fate,  against  its  voice  his  heart  must  close, 
For  when  does  tempest  cease,  because  a   rose 


THE    TRAGEDY  130 

OF    MAN 

Droops  in  its  path?     Who'd  dare  to  be  so  bold 

As  criticise  the  men  who  shape  and  mould 

Their  age?     Who  can  descry  the  silken  thread, 

By  which  upon  the  stage  of  life  are  led 

A  Brutus  and  a  Catalina !     Then, 

Is  there  one,  who  can  believe  that  when 

A  man  achieves  a  name,  he  is  no  more 

A  man,  with  tastes  and  habits  as  before 

He  famous  grew,  and  that  he  can  resign 

The  hundred  cares,  life  'bout  him  doth  entwine? 

Oh,  no !  believe  it  not ;  for  must  a  heart 

Throb,  e'en  in  him  who  plays  a  royal  part. 

If  mighty  Caesar  had  a  sweetheart  fair, 

To  her,  he  was  but  a  kind  youth,  and  ne'er 

Would  she  e'en  have  suspected  that  the  world 

At  his  command,  its  battle  flags  unfurled. 

If  this  be  so,  tell  me,  why  could'st  thou  not 

Love  me?     To  be  a  woman,  is  thy  lot: 

To  be  a  man  is  mine. 

The  heart,  't  is  said 

Will  love  or  hate ;  by  innate  feeling  led 

I  feel  affinity,  sweet  maid,  to  thee. 

Dost,  woman,  thou,  not  understand  this  plea? 


EVE. 

And  if  I  did,  what  use?     Another  God 
Guides  thee,  than  he  in  whose  straight  path  I've  trod. 
Thy  soul  and  mine,  I  feel,  could  ne'er  agree. 

ADAM. 

Then  cast  aside  ideas  obsolete, 
Why  sacrifice  to  Gods  exiled,  effete? 
One  altar  only  is  for  woman  fit, 
Whidi  ever  young  remains,  that  is  the  heart. 


131  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

The  desolated  altar,  too,  has  martyrs, 
Danton !     To  watch  o'er  ruins  with  devotion 
Is  more  sublime  than  welcoming  new  powers ; 
And  this  doth  best  beseem  a  woman's  sphere. 

ADAM. 

Not  one  has  ever  seen  me  moved,  before, 

If  friend  or  enemy  could  see  him  now, 

Who  wields  the  lash  of  fate,  like  to  the  tempest, 

To  purify  the  world,  here  on  this  scaffold 

Loving  a  little  maid,  and  shedding  tears, 

He'd  prophesy   the  downfall   of   Danton ; 

They'd  jeer  and  henceforth  none  would  fear  him,  still 

I  beg  of  thee,  one  ray  of  hope. 

EVE. 

Some  time, 

When  there  beyond  the  tomb,  once  reconciled 
Thy  soul  puts  off  the  gory  dust  of  time, 

Perchance 

ADAM. 

Cease,  maiden!  say  no  more,  for  I 
Believe  not  in  that  world  above,  and  hopeless, 
With  my  fate,  forever  must  contend. 
(The  mob  returns  in  a  fury  with  several  gory  heads 
on  their  swords,  some  get  upon  the  balcony.) 

ONE  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 
We've  sentenced  them ; — what  a  proud  set  they  were. 

A  SANSCULOTTE    (giving  Danton  a  ring.) 
Take  thou  this  ring,  for  the  nation's  corner  stone. 
One  of  the  wretches  placed  it  in  my  hand, 


THE    TRAGEDY  132 

OF    MAN 

As  to  his  throat,  I  held  the  knife.     This  set 
Take  us  for  robbers.     What!  thou  livest  still? 
Go,  join  thy  brother! 

(Strikes  Eve,  who  falls  down,  at  the  back  of  the 
scaffold.) 

ADAM    (covering  his  eyes.) 
Horrors,    it    is    over ! 
O  fate,  who  can  defy  thee! 

THE  MOB. 
Citizen ! 

Lead  on,  to  the  Convention!     Now,  the  names 
Of  traitors,  hast  thou? 

(The  moo  leave  the  scaffold.  Eve  as  a  ragged,  ex- 
cited woman  of  the  people,  disengages  herself 
from  the  crowd,  and  with  a  dagger  in  one  hand, 
a  gory  head  in  the  other,  rushes  up  to  Danton.) 

EVE. 

See,  Danton,  the  traitor! 
Thee  would  he  have  killed,  but  I  killed  him. 

ADAM. 

If  in  this  place,  he  better  would  have  stood, 
Thou  hast  done  ill ;  if  not,  thy  deed  was  well. 

EVE. 

My  deed  was  well,  so  my  reward  I  claim. 
Spend  but  one  night  with  me,  thou  mighty  man! 

ADAM. 

What  kind  of  sympathy,  in  such  a  beast 
Can  dwell?     What  tenderness  within  the  tigress? 


133  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

EVE. 

In  truth,  it  seemeth,  citizen,  that  thou 
Art  leagued  with  the  blue-blood  aristocrats, 
Or  in  delirium,  ravest  of  romance. 
Thou  art  a  man,  a  woman,  I,  and  young, 
And  admiration  seizes  me,  great  man. 

ADAM    ( aside. ) 

I  shudder,  through  and  through;  mine  eyes  can  see 
No  more,  this  frightful  image.     What  marvelous 
Resemblance!     He  who  once  hath  known  an  angel, 
And  seen  him,  fallen,  has  viewed  perhaps,  a  sight 
Like  this ;  the  features,  form  and  speech ;  all,  all ; 
But  that  something  infinitesimal, 
Which  cannot  be  described,  is  lacking,  all 
Thus   rendering  dissimilar ;   the   one, 
By  a  halo  shielded,  I  could  not  possess ; 
But  this  one,  with  foul  breath  of  hell,  to  me 
Is  loathsome. 

EVE. 
What  is  it  thou  art  muttering? 

ADAM. 

I've  reckoned,  woman,  there  are  more  traitors  here 
Than  I  have  nights. 

THE  MOB. 

To  the  Convention,  now! 

Where  is  the  list  of  traitors'  names  which  thou 
Hast  promised! 

(In  the  meantime  Robespierre,  Saint-Just  and  other 
members  of  the  Convention,  come  with  another 
crowd  and  take  their  places  upon  an  improvised 
platform.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  134 

OF   MAN 


SAINT-JUST. 
Name  the  chief  offender. 

(Murmuring  among  the  crowd.) 

ADAM. 

Dar'st 
Saint- Just  accuse?     Dost  thou  not  know  my  power? 

SAINT-JUST. 

Thou  hast  had  power,  but  in  the  people  'twas ; 
But  they  are  wise,  and  having  learned  thee  now, 
Will  the  Convention's  judgments  authorize. 

ADAM. 

I  know  no  power  above  me,  save  the  power 
Which  from  the  people  comes ;  and  they,  I  know, 
Are  friends. 

(Murmuring  again  heard  among  the  crowd.) 

SAINT-JUST. 

The  country's  enemy  is  this 
Your  friend.     The  mighty  people  then,   shall  judge 

thee. 

Before  them,  I   accuse  you, — as  betrayer 
Of  our  land,  and  public  plunderer; 
Of  sympathy  with  the  aristocrats, 
And  the  ambition  of  a  tyrant's  sway. 

ADAM. 

Beware,  Saint- Just,  of  my  own  f ulminations ! 
Thou  dost  accuse  me  falsely. 

ROBESPIERRE. 
Let  him  not  speak! 

Ye  know,  his  tongue  is  wily  as  a  serpent's ; 
But  seize  him,  in  the  name  of  liberty! 


135  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


THE  MOB. 
Let  us  no  longer  listen!     Away  with  him! 

ADAM. 

Then  hear  me  not ;  and  neither  will  I  hear 
This  accusation,  for  we  cannot  strive 
With  words,  and  e'en  your  deeds,  o'ercome  me  not; 
Thou  dost  anticipate  me,  Robespierre ; 
Thy  only  merit  'tis — for  I  myself 
Lay  down  my  arms.     It  is  enough ;  but  this 
I  cry  to  thee;  within  three  months,  thou,  too, 
Wilt  tread  this  path.     Hangman,  do  well  thy  work! 
For  'tis  a  giant  which  thou  now  dost  fell. 

(He  places  his  head  beneath  the  guillotine.) 


SCENE    X. 

(The  scene  is  suddenly  transformed  into  that  of 
Scene  VIII.  Adam  again  as  Kepler  with  his 
head  leaning  upon  his  writing  table.  Lucifer  as 
his  famulus,  standing  beside  him,  taps  him  on 
the  shoulder.  Gray  daivn.) 

LUCIFEE. 
This  time,  there  will  be  no  beheading. 

ADAM. 

Where 
Am  I,  and  where,  my  dreams? 

LUCIFEB. 

They've  taken  flight, 
With  thy  inebriation,  master  mine. 


THE    TRAGEDY  136 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

So  in  this  sordid  age,  the  hoary  head 
Save  by  intoxication's  power,  can  naught 
Achieve!     What  mighty  scene  before  mine  eyes 
Unrolled!    And  blind  is  he  who  can  not  see 
The  spark  divine,  even  beneath  its  cloak 
Of  blood  and  mire.     Colossal  was  the  sin 
As  was  the  virtue,  each  one  admirable 
For  power  its  impress  left  thereon.     Oh!  why 
Did  I  awake?    That  I  might  look  around  me 
To  know  still  better,  this  dwarfed  age;  its  sins 
Concealed,    its    virtue   hypocritical, 
Beneath  its  smiling  lineaments'  guise. 

LUCIFEB. 

Well  do  I  know,  that  feeling  of  depression 
After    intoxication    following. 

EVE  (Coming  out  of  the  bower.) 
Away  from  me,  away!  not  wrongfully 
Did  I  suspect  thee.     Dar'st  thou  speak  to  me, 
My   husband's  murderer?     Think'st  capable 
Of  such  foul  deeds,  her,  whom  thou  lying  call'st 
Thy  heart's  ideal? 

COUETIEE. 

For  God's  sake,  dear,  be  calm! 
If  overheard,  a  scandal  will  ensue. 

ADAM. 

Were  those  two  women  only  in  my  dreams? 
What  do  I  say?    One  woman — in  two  forms, 
As  variable  as  my  changeful  fate, 
Like  to  the  wave,  now  shimmering,  now  dark. 


137  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

Ah !  so  to  thee,  is  scandal  all :     To  thee, 
What  brooks  the  sin,  which  is  in  secret  done, 
Thou  blameless  knight?     Alas!  ye  look  with  scorn 
Upon  a  woman,  till  she  throws  aside 
As  prejudice  her  ancient  heritage 
Of  virtue;   then,   with  your  contemptuous   smiles, 
Ye  hold  her  but  the  vile  tool  of  your  sins. 
Away  from  me!     I  will  not  see  thee  more. 

COUBTIEB. 

This  also  is  extreme,  making  ourselves 
Objects  of  ridicule,  if  thus  we  paint 
In  festal  tomes,  this  ev'ry  day  affair. 
And  we  shall  meet  too,  even  after  this. 
Whate'er  may  come  of  it,  no  word  shall  e'er 
Be  spoken.     Good-morning,  Madam! 

(Exit.) 

EVE. 

Wretched  man! 
And  here  I  stand,  with  all  my  tears  and  sin! 

(Exit.) 

ADAM. 

Well,  it  was  but  a  dream,  and  all  is  o'er, 
But  no,  not  all !  for  daily,  stronger  grow 
Ideas  than  all  matter  was  before. 
Matter  can  be  felled  by  a  forceful  blow, 
While  my   ideas   live   forevermore. 
Forever  purified,  surely,   and  slow, 
Till  all  the  world  be  filled  by  their  lore. 

LUCIFEE. 

The  day  advances,  fast;  impatient  now 


THE    TRAGEDY  138 

OF    MAN 

The  crowd  of  students  for  the  master  wait, 
To  glean  the  words  of  wisdom  from  his  lips. 

(The   bell  sounds   from   the   tower.) 

ADAM. 

Oh!   jeer  not,  jest  not,  at  my  learning  mean! 
For  I  must  blush,  if  'tis  for  this  they  praise  me. 

LUCIFEB. 
Dost  not  instruct  these  many  splendid  youths? 

ADAM. 

Instruct  them,  do  I  not,  but  only  train  them 
By  words  they  do  not  understand ;  which  have 
No  meaning,  and  no  purport  in  them :  so 
Th'  unreasoning  admire,  and  credence  give. 
With  these  fine  words  too,  spirits  we  conjure ; 
But   it  is   all  finesse,   the  jugglery 
To  hide. 

A   STUDENT    (Hastens  to  the  podium.) 
So  gracious  wast  thou,  master,  thus 
To  call  me  to  thee,  promising  my  thirst 
For  learning  thou  would'st  satisfy,  that  I 
Might  gain  a  deeper  insight  than  all  others. 

ADAM. 

But  certainly  thy  diligence  and  zeal, 
Thee  render  worthy  of  this  privilege. 

STUDENT. 

Well,  here  I  am,  with  trembling  soul,  I  long 
Great   nature's   workshop   to   investigate; 
To  grasp  it  all,  enjoy  more  than  the  throng; 
To  gain  the  well-earned  right  to  dominate 
The  realm  of  matter,  and  the  spirit  world. 


139  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Much  thou  desir'st.     An  atom  of  the  world, 
Thou  think'st  to  pierce  its  grand  entirety. 
Sov'reignty  thou  wilt,  and  wisdom  too. 
If  all  of  this  thou  could'st  achieve,  thy  soul 
Not  bend,  beneath  the  weight,  thou  would'st  become 
A  God.     Then  less  desire;  thou  may'st  attain  it. 

STUDENT. 

Whatever  problem  then,  of  science,  thou 
Dost  solve,  great  man,  will  be  a  gain  to  me. 
I  feel  that  nothing  do  I  know. 

ADAM. 

Tis  well  then; 

Thou  art  worthy;  with  thee,  I  can  speak, 
Of  holy  and  most  hidden  things,  the  truth! 
Then  see,  as  I  myself;  but  let  there  be 
No  uninitiated  listener; 
For  truth  is  terrible,  and  bringeth  death, 
If  it  among  the  people  of  this  age 
Should  come;  but  Oh!  a  time  is  near;  if  here 
It  were!  when  in  the  streets,  it  will  be  spoken 
Free.     No  longer  will  the  people  then 
Be  children.     Give  thy  hand  in  token  now, 
That  thou  wilt  not  betray  that  which  thou  learn'st 
Of  me.     Well,  listen  then. 

STUDENT. 

With  awe  and  longing, 
Now  I  thrill. 

ADAM. 

What  did'st  thou  say  to  me 
Before,  my  son? 


THE    TRAGEDY  140 

OF    MAN 


STUDENT. 

That  nothing  in  its  essence, 
Do  I  know. 

ADAM    (Cautiously.) 

See  now,  nor  yet  do  I. 
Philosophy  is  but  the  poetry 
Of  that,  which  we  can  never  grasp,  but  is 
Most  harmless  of  all  learning  in  the  world ; 
Adorned  with  her  chimeras,   quietly, 
She  entertains  herself.    But  sciences 
There  are,  which  with  bold  front,  upon  the  sands 
Do  trace  their  lines,  to  represent  abysses; 
And  the  circle  is  a  sanctuary. 
At  this  comedy,  thou  could'st  e'en  laugh 
To  view  the  frightful  earnestness  and  art 
Of  all  of  it,  while  everyone  with  trembling 
And  with  soul  oppressed,  seeks  to  avoid 
These  sketches  in  the  sand,  still  here  and  there. 
A  snare  doth  wait,  and  the  audacious  one 
Who  falls  therein,  must  pay  the  price  of  blood. 
Such  is  th'  absurdity,  thou  see'st,  that  stands 
Now  in  our  path  as  holy  piety 
To  shield  th'  established  power. 

STUDENT. 

I  comprehend. 
But  will  it  always  be  as  now? 

ADAM. 

A  time 

Will  come,  when  they  will  laugh  at  all  those  statesmen 
Whom  we  consider  great;  the  orthodox, 
Whom  we  admire,  will  furnish  comedy 
For  our  posterity,  when  real  greatness 


141  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Doth  occupy  his  place.    'Twill  be  the  simple, 

Natural,  which  springs,  where  e'er  a  pit 

Is  seen,  and  makes  a  path,  where  space  is  found; 

And  the  learning,  which  to  madness  leads, 

With  its  abstruseness  now,  by  ev'ry  one 

Will  then  be  understood,  though  learned  by  none. 

STUDENT. 

Then  this  must  be  th'  elucidating  language, 
Which  the  apostles  once  were  wont  to  speak, 
And  if  all  else  be  mean  and  worthless  plunder, 
Oh !  do  not  take  from  me,  my  faith  in  art, 
But  in  her  laws,  instruct  me. 

ADAM. 

Art's  perfection 
Consists  in  its  concealment. 

STUDENT. 

Can  truth   then, 
Stand  alone?    For  'tis  idealism 
That  gives  the  soul  to  art. 

ADAM. 

'Tis  true,  indeed; 

With  its  own  spirit,  nature  must  combine 
In  equal  measure,  creation  to  mature; 
Without  this,  'tis  a  lifeless  mechanism. 
But  howsoe'er  thou  may'st  idealize, 
Think   not  to  overreach  great  nature's  power. 
Leave  laws  and  models,  for  he  in  whom  is  strength, 
In  whom  God  lives,  will  speak,  will  mould,  or  sing, 
With  sobs  heartrending,  when  his  soul  is  sad, 
With   smiles   when   bliss    hath    stilled   his   passion's 
storm. 


THE    TRAGEDY  142 

OF    MAN 

And  though  a  pathway  new  he  will  create, 
He'll  surely  reach  the  goal  and  form  new  laws 
In  the  domain  of  art;  but  the  abstract, 
To  dwarfs  becomes  but  fetters,  never  wings. 


STUDENT. 

Oh!  tell  me,  master,  what  I  now  can  do, 
After  so  many  nights,  to  learning  given? 
Am  I  become  like  to  a  fool,  and  vain 
Has  all  my  striving  been? 

ADAM. 

'Tis   not   in   vain. 

'Tis  this,  gives  thee  the  right  to  overthrow 
Each  flaw,  for  he  who  looks  not  in  the  face 
Of  loss,  e'en  as  he  doth  advance,  is  but 
A  coward;  but  the  tried  warrior  is  free 
To  step  aside  from  his  antagonist; 
For  of  his  valor,  there  can  'rise  no  doubt. 
So  to  the  flames,  consign  these  yellow  parchments, 
These  folios  voluminous,  with  mould 
Bedecked;  they  hinder  when  one  would  walk  alone; 
Of  thought  too  meager,  the  errors  of  the  past, 
In  judgment  of  the  future,  do  they  bring. 
Then  to  the  flames  with  them!     Out  to  the  fields! 
For  why  of  songs  and  forests  should'st  thou  learn, 
Joyless,  'mid  dusty  walls,  till  life  is  done? 
Is  life  so  long  to  thee,  that  until  death 
Thou  can'st  learn  theories?     Together  then, 
We'll  bid  farewell  to  schools;  thou  onward  led 
By  roseate  youth,  to  joyous  rays  of  sunshine, 
And  to  singing.     Guide,  doubtful  genius 
To  that  new  world,  which  will  unfold,  when  once 
Some  great  one,  its  ideals  shall  divine, 


143  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

And  clothe  in  speech,  the  hidden  thought  that  lies 
Deep  'neath  th'  accurs'd  dust  of  fallen  ruins. 


SCENE    XI. 

(London.  Market  place  between  the  Tower  and  the 
Thames.  A  motley  crowd  surging  about  and 
murmuring.  Adam  as  an  elderly  man,  stands 
with  Lucifer  upon  one  of  the  bastions  of  the 
Tower.  Time,  toward  evening.) 

CHORUS    (Floating   upward,   with    the   noise   of   the 

crowd,  accompanied  by  soft  music.) 
Hear  the  roar  of  billows, 
On  life's  stormy  sea! 
Each  wave,  a  new  world 
Of  its  own,  dost  see. 
Why  should'st  thou  make  moan, 
If  one  disappear? 
And  if  one  rise  higher, 
Then  why  should'st  thou  fear? 
Fearest  thou,  each  one, 
May  in  the  common  fate, 
Be  drowned,  or  a  strong  leader 
Millions  annihilate? 
To-day  'tis  poetry, 
Facts,  next-day,  dost  learn; 
Thirst  for  knowledge  follows, 
Fancy's  dreamy  turn. 
Seek'st,  into  a  system, 
T'  encompass  all  the  sea? 
Efforts  all  are  futile, 
None  change  fate's  decree. 


THE    TRAGEDY  144 

OF    MAN 

Ay!  this  mighty  ocean, 
Rolls   f orevermore ; 
Laughs  and  rolleth  onward. 
Let  him  rush  and  roar, 
Roar!  for  life  hath  limits; 
Roar  then,  loud  and  long! 
The  new  is  but  the  old; 
So  hear  the  magic  song! 

ADAM. 

'Tis  this!  'tis  this,  for  which  I  ever  yearned, 
But  e'er  a  labyrinth,  has  been  my  life. 
Towards  its  busy  scenes,  at  last  I've  turned ; 
How  sweet,  inspiring,  is  its  song  of  strife! 

LUCIFER. 

Like  hymns  sung  in  a  temple,  beautiful 
When  in  the  distance  heard,  or  from  the  height, 
Hoarse  voice,  with  sigh  and  moan,  how  wonderful! 
Do  with  the  tuneful  swelling  sounds  unite; 
And  what  we  hear  is  an  harmonious  whole, 
That  fills  the  heart  and  stirs  the  yearning  soul 
And  God  doth  hear  it,  deeming  all  well  done, 
The  world  created  and  placed  'neath  the  sun; 
But  did  we  listen  to  the  song  more  close, 
Instead  of  harmony,  would  hear  but  woes ; 
Of  throbbing  hearts  would  hear  the  pulses  beat 
Such  is  the  song  thou  thinkest  here  so  sweet. 

ADAM. 

Thou  art  a  scoffing  doubting  man.  Confess! 
Is  this  not  a  more  beauteous  world,  ah!  yes, 
Than  all  those  worlds,  through  which  I  have  been 

made, 
The   mouldy  barriers   are   now   decayed ; 


145  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Gone  are  the  frightful  ghosts  of  former  days, 
O'er  which   the  past — to  overawe — the  rays 
Of  glorious  haloes  blandished,  to  deceive, 
But  proved  a  curse.     Made  man  afraid  to  live. 
The  strife  is  free  to  all.     To-day,  no  slaves 
Build  pyramids. 

LUCIFEB. 

In  Egypt,   had  not  waves 
Of  lamentious'  sounds  been  heard,  if  we 
Had  stood  as  high  as  now?     And  thou'lt  agree, 
Without  these   shrieks,   the   achievements  were  sub- 
lime. 

And  then  in  Athens,  did  not  in  that  time — 
Simply  because  in  danger  might  have  been 
The  fatherland — the  people  in  their  might, 
Most  gloriously  act?     Calm  and  serene 
They  took  their  foremost  son,  their  bravest  knight, 
And  sacrificed  his  life.     And  we  must  view 
The  things  from  a  great  height,  which  we  must  do. 
Uninfluenced  by  woman's  tears,  and  all 
Considerations,  puerile  and  small. 

ADAM. 
Eternal  sophist,  cease! 

LUCIFER. 

If  woe  be  dead, 

Are  not  all  things  insipid,  now  instead? 
Where's  the  sublime  that  filleth  us  with  awe? 
The  depths  away  from  which  we  trembling  draw? 
And  our  lives,   manifold  vicissitudes? 
No  longer,  ocean  waves  of  mighty  force, 
Our  lives,  but  frog  ponds ;  filled  with  foul  exudes. 


THE    TRAGEDY  146 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

But  then,  thou  find'st  indemnity,  of  course, 
In  the  prevailing  weal? 


LUCIFEE. 

That  life  of  toil 
Thou   judgest,   which   'neath   thy   feet   doth   endless 

turmoil 

From  thy  own  seat  of  observation  high, 
Just  as  the  past  is  judged  by  history — 
It  heareth  not  the  hoarse,  dull  tones  of  woe, 
It  but  records  the  song  of  long  ago. 

ADAM. 

Ah!   e'en   Satan   sentimentalizes, 
Or  as  doctrinaire  philosophizes, 
Both  acquisitions. 

LUCIFEE    (Pointing   to   tower.) 

But  no  wonder  'tis, 
Amid  these  ruins  of  past  centuries. 

ADAM. 

This  mouldy  observation  point,  detest 
I  too,  and  I  descend  with  hopeful  breast, 
To  find  among  the  waves  of  that  new  world, 
Poetry  and  ideals  most  sublime. 
It  may  well  be  their  flag  is  not  unfurled 
In  a  gigantic  war  of  Titan  time, 
As  it  was  once  before,  but  I  may  find 
Their  influence  the  greater  o'er  mankind, 
As  great  as  in  my  dreams  I  e'er  divined. 


147  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFER. 

Be  not  afraid,  for  it  were  vain  to  fear. 
As  long  as  matter  hath  existence  here, 
So  long  will  I,  the  spirit  which  denies, 
My  power  exert;  as  long  as  thought  vivifies 
The  human  brain;  as  long  as  heart  of  man 
Shall  throb ;  as  long  as  law  says,  "  This  ye  can, 
And  that  ye  cannot  do,"  why,  just  so  long 
'T  will  live  on,  as  negation,  both  in  song 
And  lofty  aims.     But  to  descend  there,  say 
What  form  shall  we  assume.    Up  here  to  stay 
This  garb  alone  is  fit. 

ADAM. 

What  e'er  you  want. 

For  naught's  conspicuous  there,  depend  upon  't. 
(Both  go  into  the  tower,  and  soon  emerge  from  be* 
low,  dressed  as  laborers,  and  enter  the  crowd. 
A  puppet-show  is  near  by;  the  proprietor  stands 
in  front,  holding  a  chain  in  hand,  to  which  a 
monkey,  dressed  in  a  red  coat,  is  attached.) 

THE  PUNCH  AND  JUDY  MAN. 
Come,  gentlemen ;  come  gentlemen,  this  way ! 
The  great  show  will  commence  now,  right  away. 
It  is  a  mightily  amusing  play : 
The  snake  leads  Eve — the  first  woman — astray, 
For  woman  was,  e'en  in  that  ancient  day. 
Inquisitive  and  never  would  obey. 
You  can  see  here,  in  gentleman's  array, 
A  monkey,  who  with  dignity  doth  play 
The  r61e  of  some  great  man,  and  then  you  may 
A  bear  as  dancing  master  see!     Oh,  say, 
It's  splendid  fun!     Come  gentlemen,  this  way! 

(Crowd  around  the  booth.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  148 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFER. 

Oh !  Adam,  'pon  my  word,  they  speak  of  us : 
I  think  'tis  fine,  though  almost  fabulous, 
To  be  so  famed,  that  after  all  this  run 
Of  full  six  thousand  years,  we  furnish  fun 
For  pleasure-seeking  youth. 

ADAM. 

But  I  want  none 
Of  all  those  senseless  jokes.     Go  on,  go  on ! 

LUCIFER. 

These  senseless  jokes?     But  just  look  at  those  boys; 
How  each  and  every  one  of  them  enjoys 
The  sight,  although  but  a  short  while  ago, 
At  school,  down  o'er  their  Nepos  bending  low, 
They   almost   fell   asleep.     Who  knows  who's  right? 
He  who,  in  consciousness  of  strength,  to  life 
Doth  wake,  or  he  for  whom  doth  end  the  strife? 
Dost  from  thy  Shakespeare,  ever  gain  such  joys 
As  these  mean  caricatures  bring  to  these  boys? 

ADAM. 
And  these  are  just  exactly  what  I   hate. 

LUCIFER. 

It  clings  to  thee  from  Greece,  of  ancient  date. 
See!     I,  who  am  the  child,  or,  if  you  wrill, 
The  father — of  all   this  romanticism — 
For  we  spirits  any  role  can  fill — 
I  take  delight  in  this  droll  witticism. 
In  these  burlesques  there  is  the  real  sport. 
A  human  face  is  of  the  monkey  sort. 
We  see  the  dirt  flung  at  the  truly  great; 


149  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Distorted  sentiments  in  dress  of  state; 

A  trumpet  sings  of  chastity ;  the  low  and  mean 

Is  praised,  and  love,  by  an  old  rake; 

So  I  forget  my  own  realm  lost  has  been, 

And  in  a  new  form,  a  new  life  I  make. 

THE   PUNCH   AND   JUDY   MAN. 

(Slapping   Adam   on    the    shoulder.) 
Why  do  ye  occupy,  here  the  best  place? 
I  read,  fine  bird,  in  thy  old  wizened  face 
Thou'st  fond  of  fun  which  costs  thee  not  a  cent 
But  find  someone,  who  on  self  hanging's  bent. 
(Adam  and  Lucifer  stand  aside,  a  little  girl  comes 
along,  selling  violets.) 

LITTLE  GIBL. 

Sweet  violets,  first  messenger  of  spring! 
Buy  violets!     They  to  the  orphan  bring 
Her  daily  bread,  and  ornament  the  poor. 

A   MOTHEB    (Buying   violets.) 
Here,  give  me  some,  to  place  in  my  dead  child's  hand. 

A  GIRL  (Also  buying.) 
For  my  dark   hair,  the  best  adornment,   sure. 

LITTLE  GIBL. 
Sweet  violets,  the  sweetest  in  the  land! 

A  JEWELER   (In  his  booth.) 

Why  must  this  weed,  (we  can't  from  fashion  drive), 
Ever  compete  with  us?    The  pearly  bead 
Is  for  a  beauteous  neck  more  fit,  indeed. 
To  bring  it  from  the  sea,  a  man  will  dive, 
And  brave  the  perils  of  the  deep. 

(Two  Burgher  maidens  come.) 


THE    TRAGEDY  150 

OF    MAN 


FlBST    BUBGHEB    MAID. 

Oh,  my! 
What  lovely  jewels. 

SECOND  BUBGHEB  MAID. 

Were  there  one,  to  buy 
For  each  of  us,  a  gift! 

FIBST  BUBGHEB   MAID. 
Men  of  to-day 

Who  presents  make,  expect  one  to  repay, 
And  at  an  awful  price. 

SECOND  BUBGHEB  MAID. 

The  modern  man 

Has  no  taste,  e'en  for  that.     The  courtesan 
And  caviar,  have  spoiled  him. 

FIBST  BUBGHEB   MAID. 

Us  they  greet 
No  more;  from  shyness,  or  from  vain  conceit. 

(Exeunt.) 

(A  garden;  drinks  are  served  to  people  sitting  at 
table.  Laborers,  soldiers  and  citizens.  Music 
and  dancing.) 

INNKEEPEB  (Among  his  guests.) 
Good  cheer,  my  friends,  for  yesterday  is  flown, 
To-morrow  we  shall  never  see, 
'Tis  God,  who  nourishes  the  birds,  and  "all," 
The  Bible  saith,  "  is  vanity." 

LUCIFEB. 

'Tis  this  philosophy  that  pleases  me. 
Let's  sit  here,  on  this  shaded  bench,  and  see 


151  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

The  crowd  enjoy  themselves,  so  cheap  and  fine, 
With  music  that  is  poor,  and  sour,  bad  wine. 

FIBST  WOBKMAN   (At  one  of  the  tables.) 
I  say,  the  devil  those  machines  did  make, 
They  from  our  mouths  the  bread  and  butter  take. 

SECOND    WORKMAN. 

If  wine  remain,  we  can  forget  with  ease. 
The  rich  themselves  the  devils  are;  they  squeeze 
E'en  our  last  drop  of  blood.     Oh!  were  one  here 
Just  now,  to  hell  I'd  send  him  without  fear, 
For  we  need  more  examples  like  the  last. 

THIKD    WORKMAN. 
What  would'st  thou  gain  thereby?     When  all  were 

past, 
To  hang;  and  we,  still  to  our  fate  succumb. 

SECOND   WORKMAN. 

Nonsense!   for  he  shall  sit  here,  if  he  come, 
And  we  shall  see  who  can  be  liberal ! 

INNKEEPER  (To  Adam.) 
What  can  I  bring  for  you? 

ADAM. 

Nothing  at  all. 

INNKEEPER. 

Then  go!  or  dost  thou  think  that  wine  and  meal 
I  give  away?  that  I  my  money  steal, 
Or  wife  and  child  allow,  to  beggary 
To  come? 


THE    TRAGEDY  152 

OF    MAN 


ADAM    (Rising.) 
Thou  darest  thus  to  speak  to  me? 

LUCIFER  (Breaking  in.) 
Let  go  the  clodgate! 

ADAM. 

Well  then,  let  us  go. 
Why  contemplate  proud  man,  now  sunk  so  low ! 

LUCIFER    (Passing  a  dive.) 

At  last  I've  found,  that  which  so  long  I've  sought! 
Now  here,  we  can  enjoy,  constrained  by  naught. 
This  boisterousness,   laughter,  hellish  noise ; 
These  piercing  cries  of  bacchanalian  joys, 
Bring  roseate  red  into  the  pallid  face 
And  meanest  misery  of  sin  to  place 
In  gilded  garb.     This  is  a  sight  to  praise. 

ADAM. 

To  me,  it  horror  and  disgust  conveys. 
(In  the  meantime,  they  have  approached  the  dancers. 
Two    beggars    come    along,    fighting.) 

FIRST    BEGGAR. 
This  is  my  place;  my  license,  here  it  is. 

SECOND  BEGGAR. 

Be  merciful,  for  our  dear  Christ's  sake,  please! 
Or  I  must  starve,  for  this  last  week  or  two. 
I've  not  been  able  one  hour's  work  to  do. 

FIRST    BEGGAR. 

Then  thou  art  not  a  beggar  genuine. 
Move  on!     I'll  give  that  officer  a  sign. 

(Exit  Second  Beggar.    The  first  takes  his  place.) 


153  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

By  the  five  wounds  of  Christ,  give  alms,  I  pray 
Sweet  gentlemen! 

(A  soldier  takes  from  the  arms  of  an  artisan  a  girl, 
with  whom  lie  is  dancing.) 

SOLDIER. 

Peasant,  stand  back  I  say! 
Thou  think'st  thou'rt  somebody,   when   I'm   around? 

ABTISAN. 

Indeed,  if  I  should  knock  thee  to  the  ground, 
I  would  be  somebody. 

SECOND  ARTISAN. 

For  God's   sake   don't 

Fight  here;  just  yield  to  him,  depend  upon  't. 
The  soldier  has  the  glory  and  the  power. 

FIRST   ARTISAN. 

Then  why  can't  he  behave?     I'd  like  to  scour 
His  head  for  him,  and  him  some  manners  teach. 
The  soldier  is  but  a  bloodthirsty  leech. 

A   COURTESAN    (Singing.) 
In  olden  times,  the  golden  apple, 
E'en  from  the  dragon,  did  they  wrest; 
The   apples   still   are   ripening, 
Though  dragons  long  have  been  at  rest. 
A  blockhead's  he,   who  doth  look   and   look, 
Without  the  courage  of  them  to  pluck. 

(Embracing  a  youth  at  a  table.) 

LUCIFER. 

(Absorbed  in  contemplation  of  the  pair.) 
I  like  coquetry,  which  I  here  behold, 


THE    TRAGEDY  154 

OF    MAN 

Let  those  who  treasures  have,  just  show  their  gold. 
The  iron  trunks  of  misers  might  contain 
Instead  of  gold,  a  worthless  iron  chain. 
How  touching  is  the  jealousy  that  boor 
Displays!     He  seeks  the  eyes  of  his  amour; 
He  knoweth  how  to  prize  the  moment's  charms. 
To-morrow  some  one  else  within  her  arms 
She'll  hold. 

ADAM    (To  one  of  the  musicians.) 
Tell  me,  man,  how  dost  hold  thine  art! 
Is  love  for  music,  then,  not  in  thy  heart? 

MUSICIAN. 

Indeed,  I  have  no  love  for  it;  and  more, 
I  play  all  day  the  selfsame  tunes.    The  roar 
Of  all  this  noise  doth  make  me  sick  and  sore 
At  heart.    Yet,  while  my  calling  I  abhor 
I  play  to  live;  for  nothing  else  I'm  fit. 

LUCIFEE. 

Thoughtful   philosophy,    I   must   admit, 
The  fickle  maid,  light-hearted  though  she  be, 
Displays.     She  knows  'tis  not  the  last  one  she 
Will  have,  and  e'en  in  her  embraces  now, 
She  has  picked  out  the  next  one,  I  would  vow. 
My  precious  children,  at  sight  of  your  joy, 
I   feel   a   happiness,   without  alloy, 
To  see  how  smilingly  ye  work  for  me — 
My  blessing  will  be  guilt  and  misery. 

SECOND  ARTISAN   (Singing.) 
He  whose  week's  labor  is  done, 
And  with  a  pure  heart,  doth  quaff 


155  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

His  wine,  'mid  kisses  and  song, 

In  the  devil's  face  can  laugh. 

(The  closing  chords  of  the  music  from  a  church  are 
heard.  Eve  as  a  burgher  maiden,  with  prayer- 
book  and  nosegay  in  hand,  comes  out  of  the 
church  with  her  mother.) 

A  PEDDLEB. 

Come  this  way,  dear  miss!    Here  at  my  stand, 
You  may  buy  cheaper  than  in  all  the  land. 

ANOTHEB  PEDDLEB. 

Believe  him  not !  short  is  his  weight ;  his  ware 
Is  second-hand.    Come  over  here.    I  swear 
I  have  the  best. 

ADAM. 

Ah!     See,  thou  in  this  place 
Iniquitous  dost  hold  me,  while  such  grace, 
Almost  unnoticed,  near  us  passes  by. 

LTTCIFEB. 

And  what  of  that,  what  does  it  signify? 
That's  nothing  new. 

ADAM. 

How  sweet!     She  must  have  been 
At  church. 

LTJCIFEB. 
Mayhap  to  see,  and  to  be  seen. 

ADAM. 

This  jeer  is  cold;  let  it  not  touch  the  maid; 
For  with  devotion  she  her  prayers  hath  said. 

LUCIFEB. 
Converted  then,  I  see,  and  from  the  heart? 


THE    TRAGEDY  156 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

A  stupid  jest!     But  list,  I  for  my  part 
May  feel  however  cold;  'tis  my  affair; 
But  I  insist,  that  for  the  woman's  share, 
That  certain  predilection,  I  admire; 
That  music  of  past  times,  that  holy  fire ; 
Th'  untouched  enamel  of  the  flower. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  where 

Dost  see  this  strip  of  Heaven?    The  devil  ne'er 
Can'st  thou  expect,  continually  to  guess 
Thy  taste,  and  know  just  whom  thou  would'st  pos- 


Enough,  that  I  supply  her  on  demand. 

ADAM. 

That  maiden  yonder  wilt  thou  understand? 
Where  else  she  could  be — my  goal  of  happiness? 

LUCIFEB. 

The  popinjay  doth  just  such  thought  express, 
When  he  a  worm  in  his  sharp  bill  doth  press ; 
In  all  the  world,  there  is  no  finer  bite. 
Yet  to  the  dove,  the  worm's  a  loathsome  sight. — 
So  will  a  man,  his  own  salvation  find 
Where,r— it  may  be, — his  own  neighbor's  mind, 
Could  find  but  hell. 

ADAM. 

What  dignity!  and  air, 
So  modest,  that  t'  approach,  I  scarcely  dare. 

LUCIFEB. 

Take  courage !     Thou  with  women  ne'er  dost  fail ; 
If  we  heed  well,  she  too  will  be  for  sale. 


157  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 
Silence ! 

LUCIFEB. 

Perhaps  far  dearer  than  the  rest. 
(A  youth  approaches  Eve  very  modestly  and  offers 
her  a  heart  made  of  sweet  cake.) 

THE   YOUTH    (To  Eve.) 

I  pray  thee,  grant  me  just  this  one  request; 
Allow  me  to  present  to  you  this  heart. 

EVE. 
Thus  to  remember  me,  how  kind  thou  art. 

THE  MOTHEE. 

'Tis  long  since  we  have  seen  thee;  why  dost  thou 
No  longer  visit  us? 

(Eve   and   the   youth   converse   in   whispers.     Adam 
grows  excited.     The  youth  goes  away.) 

ADAM. 

Thou  may  avow, 

This  beardless  youth,  that  which  my  heart  in  vain 
Doth    feel.      What    confidence! — she    smiles! — What 

pain, 
What  pain  I  must  endure!     I  must  speak  to  her. 

THE  MOTHEB   (To  Eve.) 
His  family  is  rich,  and  I  concur 
In  this  thy  choice,  but  then  we  do  not  know 
What  think  his  family ;  so  do  not  throw 
His  rival  overboard,  who  just  to-day 
Did  so  surprise  thee  with  that  lovely  nosegay. 


THE    TRAGEDY  158 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Allow  me  ladies,  to  escort  you  home, 
That  from  the  crowd  no  harm  to  you  may  come. 

EVE. 
What  impudence! 

THE  MOTHEB. 

Out  of  my  sight,  thou  churl! 
Or  dost  thou  think,  she  is  the  sort  of  girl 
To  whom  most  any  one  can  say  sweet  things? 

ADAM. 

How  could  one  otherwise?     To  me  she  brings 
The  vision  of  ideal  woman  fair. 

THE  MOTHER. 

Just  dream  ahead!  but  I  shall  take  good  care 
That  he  for  whom  my  daughter's  charms  shall  bloom 
Will  be  no  good-for-naught.     Thou  dost  presume. 
(Adam  stands  hesitatingly.     A  gypsy  woman  steps 
up  to  Eve.) 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

Ah!  sweetest  of  the  sweet,  fairest  of  the  fair! 
Show  me  your  tiny,  snowy  hand ;  I'll  dare 
To  read  from  it,  with  my  mysterious  lore, 
The  thousand  blessings  your  fate  has  in  store. 

(Reads  her  hand.) 

A  handsome  groom  elect, — not  far  away, — 
Is  waiting;  ah!  these  very  lines  betray, 
You  will  have  wealth  and  health,  and  show  that  you 
Some  day,  will  have  a  lot  of  children  too. 

(Receives  money.) 

LUCIFEB    (Pointing  to  Adam.) 
Here  sister,  read  my  comrade's  horoscope. 


159  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


GYPSY  WOMAN. 

(Looks  hurriedly  at  Adam's  hand.) 
It  is  not  clear.    He'll  starve,  or  hangman's  rope 
His  fate. 

ADAM   (To  Eve.) 
Do  not  repel  me,  sweetest  maid! 
I  feel  our  hearts  were  for  each  other  made. 

EVE. 
Mother,  permit  him  not! 

MOTHEB. 

The  guards  I'll  call 
If  you  don't  go  away. 

EVE. 

Well,  after  all 
He  meant  no  harm.     Come,  mother  let  us  go. 

(Exeunt.) 

ADAM. 

O  holy  poesy,  art  flown?    Doth  grow 
The  world  prosaic  now? 

LUCIFER. 

What  dost  thou  say? 
This   dance,  this  bower,   that   sweet  cake   and  that 

nosegay ; 

What  else  are  they?    Be  not  so  fidgety, 
There's  still  material  for 
Romances. 

ADAM. 

What  avails  it,  if  lurk  greed 
Around,  and  never  one  unselfish  deed? 


THE    TRAGEDY  160 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

E'en  that  may  still  be  found  among  school-boys, 
Whose  lives  are  not  yet  wrecked  by  griefs  and  joys ; 
In  whom  all  life  is  husbanded,  as  yet. 
Here  comes  just  now,  some  of  that  jolly  set. 

(Some  students  enter.) 

FIRST   STUDENT. 

Well,  boys,   we've  left  the  mouldy  school  behind, 
And  now  we  can  some  real  pleasure  find. 

SECOND  STUDENT. 

Let's  go  into  the  field — oh !  how  I  hate 
The  barriers  within  the  city's  gate. 

THIED   STUDENT. 

Let  us,  with  some  one  now,  begin  a  fight. 
To  give  and  take  a  blow,  is  man's  delight. 

FIBST   STUDENT. 

Let's  from  the  soldiers  steal  their  girls  away, 
And  instantly  there  will  be  an  affray ; 
Then  with  the  girls  out  to  the  gardens  go ; 
Enough  have  we  for  ale;  till  eve  we'll  know 
The  life  of  dukes,  while  near  a  rosy  face. 

FOURTH  STUDENT. 
How  glorious!  to  tease  Philistines  base. 

FIRST   STUDENT. 

Thus  strengthening  the  bond  that  makes  us  one. 
Let  us  enjoy  ourselves,  when  our  work's  done. 
If  need  be,  once  some  great  thought  will  inspire. 
And  us  endue  with  patriotic  fire. 

(Exeunt.) 


161  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

In  this  stale  world,  it  is  a  splendid  sight, 
I  see  therein  the  germ  of  a  future  bright. 

LUCIFEB. 

And  from  this  germ,  we'll  see  what  once  will  grow, 
When  sown  in  schools,  for  every  one  must  know. 
These  manufacturers  who  come  this  way 
Were  just  like  these,  when  school-boys,  in  their  day. 
(Two  manufacturers  in  conversation  come  along.) 

FIBST   MANUFACTURER. 
No,  sir,  I  can't  compete.     I  must  reduce 
The  prices  of  the  goods,  and  introduce 
Adulterated  wares. 

SECOND   MANUFACTURER. 

But,  my  dear  sir, 
Reduce  the  wages  of  the  laborer. 

FIRST   MANUFACTURER. 

E'en  now,  rebellion,  and  complaint  abounds, 
They  say  they  can  no  longer  live,  the  hounds! 
In  part,  their  plaints  are  justified,  of  course, 
But  then,  who  doth  upon  them  marriage  force, 
And  who  doth  ever  say  that  they,  ere  long, 
Shall    have    six    children's    mouths    to    feed.      'Tis 
wrong. 

SECOND   MANUFACTURER. 

Well  then,  still  harder  must  they  work ;  they  might 
Be  forced  to  work  for  us  half  through  the  night 
The  other  half  would  be  enough  for  sleep, 


THE    TRAGEDY  162 

OF    MAN 

And  dreams  that  are  not  good  for  them,  would  keep 
Away. 

(Exeunt.) 
ADAM. 

To  hear  these  things  doth  make  one's  brain  to  whirl ; 
But  tell  me,  where  is  she — that  beauteous  girl? 
Come  Lucifer,  by  this  thy  power  can'st  prove, 
That  she  with  favor  look  upon  my  love. 

LUCIFEK. 

I  do  not  waste  my  power  on  paltry  things. 

ADAM. 

What's  small  to  thee,  to  me  such  blessing  brings 
As  the  whole  world  could  not  outweigh. 

LUCIFEB. 

'Tis  done. 

Do  not  permit  thy  sentiments  to  run 
Amuck.     If  need  be,  fear  not  to  deceive; 
But  answer  me,  and  she  is  thine.  (Aloud,  that  the 
gypsy    woman    listening    behind    them    may 
overhear. ) 
Perceive 

My  Lord,   this  traveling  incognito. 
Has  drawbacks,  and  if  people  here  could  know, 
That  our  four  ships  from  India,  to-day 
Cast  anchor  here,  in  quite  a  different  way, 
We'd  be  received. 

ADAM. 
Perhaps. 

GYPSY  WOMAN    (Aside.) 

Ah !  with  delight 
I'M  turn  this  to  account,  with  all  my  might. 


163  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

(To  Adam.)     One  word,  I  pray,  sir.     'Twas  in  jest, 

that  I 

For  you,  an  awful  fate  did  prophecy. 
To  punish  you;  but  to  you  now  I'll  show 
That  I  well  knew  of  your  incognito. 
The  secrets  of  all  men  to  me  are  known; 
Let  me  confess ;  I  am  the  devil's  own. 

LUCIFER    (Aside.) 
You  are?     Well,  I  want  no  such  dirty  hag. 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

Your  ships  will  come  to-day,  floating  your  flag. 
Still  better  news,  a  sweet  maid's  heart,  I  know 
In  yearning  love,  for  you  is  all  aglow. 

ADAM. 
How  can  I  win  her? 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 
She's  as  good  as  yours. 

ADAM. 
But  she  has  repulsed  me. 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 
That   insures 

A  most  successful  suit.    Well,  you  will  see, 
She'll  soon  be  here.     Think  of  my  prophecy. 

(Exit.) 
ADAM. 
Aha!     The  hag  has  left  thee  far  behind. 

LUCIFEB. 

I'll  not  deny  her  merits,  for  I  find 


THE    TRAGEDY  164 

OF    MAN 

An  able  substitute. 

(A  mountebank  comes  upon  a  hand  cart.  Blare  of 
trumpets.  Crowd  gathers  about  him.  Takes  pos- 
session of  center  of  stage.) 

MOUNTEBANK. 
Make  room  for  me ! 

Greet  me  with  awe,  because  in  me  ye  see 
A  famous  man!     My  head  has  hoary  grown 
In  studying,  that  nature's  secrets  known 
Might  be,  to  me. 

ADAM. 
Who  is  this  lunatic? 

LUCIFEB. 

Science   descends, — it   must   a   living   seek,: — 
Into  a  mountebank,  just  as  when  thou 
Wast  dabbling;  but  more  noise  is  needed  now. 

ADAM. 

But  practiced  not  my  schemes  to  that  degree — 
Shame  on  him! 

LUCIFEB. 

Surely  not  at  fault  is  he, 
For  he  doth  only  strive,  that  fate  t'  avert 
Which  on  his  tombstone  these  words  might  insert: 
"  Ex  gratia  speciali, 
Mortuus  in  hospitali  " 
For  others,  sacrificing  night  and  day 
He  only  asks  what's  justly  due:  his  pay. 

MOUNTEBANK. 

My   whole   life  long,    I   for  mankind. 
Have  sacrificed,  and  ever  sought  to  find 
Life's  true  elixir,  and  to  penetrate 


165  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

All  secrets  of  our  nature  great. 
This,  many  thousand  years  ago, 
Was  used  by  the  great  Pharaoh; 
This  magic  potion   Tancred  used, 
Into  him,  heroes'  blood  infused; 
From  beautiful  Helene  of  Greece, 
I  learned  to  make  this  beauty  grease, 
What  men  expect,  and  what  men  hope, 
I  tell  by  Kepler's  horoscope. 

ADAM. 
See'st  what  he   sells?     We  thought  the  day  would 

dawn 

In  future  times,  while  he  has  boldly  drawn 
Upon  the  past,  and  claims  he's  found  the  light. 

LUCIFEB. 

The  present  never  is  esteemed  aright; 
To  the  "  to-day,"  respect  is  never  shown ; 
Just  as  a  great  man  never  has  been  known, 
In  dressing  gown ;  of  this  "  to-day  "  in  life — 
As  after  a  decade  married  to  a  wife, 
Her  flaws  are  known. 

MOUNTEBANK. 
A  blessing  they  bestow, 
Buy,  buy!  there  ne'er  was  such  a  chance,  I  know. 

FROM  THE  CROWD. 

Here!  let  me  have  some  of  your  famous  wares! 
Their  price  is  high,  but  still,  one  gladly  spares 
The  money,  if  so  efficacious  they. 

LUCIFEE. 

Ho!     See!  the  people  disbelieve,  convey 
Howe'er  to  them,  what  is  miraculous, 


THE    TRAGEDY  166 

OF    MAN 

They  quickly  spend  on  it  their  overplus. 
(Eve  and  her  mother  return.    The  gypsy  woman  fol- 
lows, whispering  to  them.) 

EVE. 
Thou  talk'st  in  vain ;  we  know  thee. 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 
If  not  true, 

Be  that  which  I  tell  thee,  I'm  lost.     With  you 
That  gentleman  is  so  enamored,  now 
His  mistress  he  would  make  of  you;  allow 
That  you  as  a  duchess  drive  with  coach-and-four 
To  theatre  and  ball,  and  still  much  more. 

THE  MOTHER. 

Viewed  from  the  right  side,  after  all,  such  life 
Is  better  than  bear  hardships  of  a  wife 
In  some  bootmaker's  dingy  pitch-stained  shop. 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

Look !  there  he  stands ;  it  seems,  that  there  he'll  stop 
Until  he  finds  you  hereabouts. 

EVE. 

He  ought — 

If  it  be  true,  that  he  but  me  has  sought — 
To  look  this  way.    He  like  a  gentleman 
Doth  bear  himself,  his  hands  are  fine. 

THE  MOTHER. 

I  can 

In  his  companion  even,  good  points  find, 
Although  his  nose  be  of  the  crooked  kind ; 
And  though  he's  lame,  he  seems  respectable. 


167  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

My  daughter,  I'll  retire,  more  practicable 
'Tis,  to  leave  you  two  alone. 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

Just   see ! 
The  beauty  has  returned,  and  sighs  for  thee. 

ADAM. 
I'll  fly  to  her— O  ecstacy ! 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

The  pay 
Remember ! 

LUCIFEB    (Giving  her  money.) 
I  thus  to  thee  my  thanks  convey ; 
My  comrade  gives  the  money. 

GYPSY  WOMAN   (Shrieks.) 
Ugh!  what  a  vice. 

LUCIFER. 

But  thou  would'st  think  thyself  in  paradise, 
If  thou,  old  jade,  wert  what  thou  claim'st  to  be. 

EVE  (To  Adam.) 

If  you  would  buy  a  market  gift  for  me, 
There's  a  cosmetic  that  has  caught  my  eye. 

ADAM. 

Nothing  on  earth  could  e'er  so  beautify, 
As  those  sweet  charms  thy  woman's  face  doth  wear; 
For  that  cosmetic  is  without  a  peer. 
(The  mountebank  has  gone  away  during  the  mean- 
time.) 

EVE. 
You  are  too  kind,  sir. 


THE    TRAGEDY  168 

OP    MAN 


ADAM. 

Don't   put   me    to    sharne, 
Diamonds  to  give  tliee  is  my  aim, 
Not  that  with  them,  thy  beauteous  neck  and  hair 
Be  ornamented  to  appear  more  fair; 
But  just  because  they  never  could  have  shone 
Upon  a  lovelier  or  a  worthier  one. 

EVE. 

I  saw  a  jeweler  quite  near,  but  no ! 
For  me,  poor  maid,  they  suit  not  well,  I  know. 

ADAM. 
Come,  let  us  look  at  them. 

LUCIFER. 

'Tis  useless, — see ! 

Some  splendid  ones  I  chance  to  have  with  me. 
(Gives  jewels  to  Eve,  who  examines  them  joyfully 
and  tries  them  on.) 

EVE. 
How  lovely  !     How  they'll  envy  me ! 

ADAM. 

That    heart — 
I  would  not  see  it  more. 

EVE. 
With  it,  I'll  part. 

(Throws  it  away.) 

LUCIFEB. 
I'll  crush  the  heart,  that  can  not  even  sigh. 

(Tramples  upon  it.) 


169  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

What's  that!     I  thought  I  heard  a  piercing  cry? 
(During  this  time  a  convict,  sentenced  to  death,  is 
seen  taken  to  the  gallows  and  followed  by  a  big 
crowd. ) 

ONE  OF  THE  CROWD. 

Come  quick !    I  told  you  it  would  be  a  sight ; 
The  coward  is  not  even  now  contrite. 

ADAM. 
What  is  this  crowd,  with  changing  cheer  and  jeer? 

EVE. 

They  hang  a  man ;  I'm  glad  that  I  am  here. 
Let  us  go  too,  exciting  is  the  sight, 
My  jewels  I  can  show  with  great  delight. 

ADAM. 
What  was  the  wretch's  crime? 

EVE. 
I  do  not  know. 

LUCIFEB. 

It  matters  not,  I  will  relate  it  though ; 

In  Lovell's  factory,  he  long  did  work, 

But  poison  ever  in  the  lead  doth  lurk ; 

And  once,  inhaling  it  with  ev'ry  breath, 

He  ill  became,  and  lay  nigh  unto  death 

For  weeks  in  the  hospital,  and  then  distress 

Came  to  his  lovely  wife,  and  you  can  guess 

The  sequel  when  I  tell  jou  Lovell's  son, 

Was  young  and  kind  of  heart,  and  she  was  won. 


THE    TRAGEDY  170 

OF    MAN 


FIRST  LABOEEB. 

Comrade,  be  brave!  thou  die'st  a  martyr's  death; 
Thy  name  eternal  fame  encountereth. 

LUCIFEB. 

The  husband  then,  recovering,  his  wife 
His  place,  both  lost,  there  came  a  bitter  strife : 
With  soul  enraged,  to  Lovell  he  made  threat ; 
Young  Lovell  with  a  blow,  the  insult  met, 
Then  into  him,  the  culprit  plunged  a  knife ; 
So  here  he  pays  the  penalty — his  life. 
Old  Lovell  has  become  insane. 
(As  these  words  are  spoken  the  insane  Lovell  enters.) 

LOVELL. 

You   lie! 

You  lie !  for  not  at  all  insane  am  I ; 
If  so,  could  I  distinctly  understand 
The  faintly  whispering  voice  of  reprimand 
That  sounds  from  my  son's  wound?    All  I  possess 
I'd  freely  give  away,  could  I  suppress 
This  power  to  hear.     I'd  rather  be  insane. 

THIBD  WORKMAN. 
Fear  naught!     Thou  shalt  not  unavenged  remain. 

FIRST   WORKMAN. 
They  are  the  culprits,  thou  art  in  the  right. 

ADAM. 

Thou  dost  appall  me,  brain  congealing  sight! 
But  who  can  tell,  who  here  is  more  to  blame? 
Perhaps  society!    Well,  more's  the  shame 
Where  that's  decayed,  luxuriates  all  vice. 


171  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LOVELL. 

'Tis  true !    Society !    Ah !  you  are  wise, 
All  I  possess  is  yours ;  but  pray,  do  break 
That  whisp'ring  spell  which  keepeth  me  awake. 

EVE. 
Let's  go,  let's  go!  or  no  place  shall  we  find. 

ADAM. 

I  bless  thee  fate,  that  to  me  wast  so  kind ; 
That  for  a  judge  thou  hast  not  chosen  me, 
Stretched  on  a  couch,  how  easy  it  must  be, 
Laws  to  create;  but  difficult  the  art 
To  judge  with  understanding,  the  human  heart. 

LTTCIFEB. 

But  with  such  views,  law-suits  would  never  end. 
None  choose  the  wrong,  because  'tis  wrong;  defend 
E'en  devils,  their  own  acts  by  argument. 
The  Gordian  knot  must  by  the  judge  be  rent; 
Philanthropists  by  thousands  e'en  could  not 
Untie  the  tangled  threads  thereof,  I  wot. 
(By  this  time  they  have  arrived  at  the  Tower,  at  one 
corner  of  which,  in  a  niche,  stands  a  holy  image.) 

EVE. 

Will  you,  my  friend,  here  but  one  moment  stay, 
That  at  this  shrine,  an  "  ave  "  I  may  say? 
And  place  this  nosegay  on  the  cross. 

LUCIFEB    ( Whispering. ) 

No,   no! 
Permit  it  not,  or  great  will  be  our  woe. 


THE    TRAGEDY  172 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

E'er  since  my  childhood's  days,  I  at  this  shrine 

My  prayers  have  said  to  Him,  good  Saviour  mine; 

And  after  that  I  always  feel  so  good; 

The  time  we  lose,  we'll  make  up  in  the  wood. 

(She  takes  the  nosegay  and  puts  it  on  the 
cross,  ~but  the  flowers  suddenly  wither  and 
fall;  the  precious  stones  roll  down  from 
her  neck  and  arms,  turning  into  snakes.) 

What's  this? 

LUCIFER. 
I  warned  in  vain! 


EVE. 
Help! 

ADAM. 

Not   so   loud! 

Pray  do  not  scream,  you  will  attract  the  crowd; 
And  gems  a  thousand  fold  more  costly,  I 
Will  give  to  thee. 

EVE. 

Begone,   I   say!     Mercy. 
Two  jugglers  and  a  witch,  in  devil's  pay, 
A  pure  and  honest  maid  have  led  astray. 
(The   people    begin   to   gather.     The   gypsy   'woman 
comes  with  police  officers.) 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

They  must  be  here,  that  counterfeiting  band; 
Quicksilver  like,  it  melted  in  my  hand, 
The  coin  they  gave  me. 


173  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

And  it  may,  I  ween, 

The  fault,  old  hag,  of  thy  lank  hand  have  been. 
Away!   it  waxeth  warm  here,  Adam. 
(They  go  on  to  the  Tower,  while  the  commotion  in- 
creases below.     Adam  and  Lucifer  again  appear 
on  the  bastion  of  the  Tower.) 

ADAM. 

Vain 

Is  all,  for  I  have  been  deceived  again. 
The  ghastly  apparitions  of  the  past, 
Old  prejudice  to  vanquish  and  to  cast 
Away,  and  to  opposing  forces  yield 
A  new,  a  broad,  an  all  embracing  field, 
I  thought  to  be  enough.     A  mighty  screw 
From  out  this  mechanism  then  I  drew 
Holy  piety — but  failed  to  place 
A  stronger  one  there  in  its  stead.     The   race 
Of  man  is  still  in  its  unequal  strife. 
What  sort  of  combat  is  this  in  their  life, 
When  mighty  swords  a  naked  man  oppose? 
What  kind  of  independence  doth  disclose 
A  state  of  things,  in  which  a  hundred  must 
Be  sufferers,  for  want  of  their  daily  crust? 
Because  they  will  not  bear  the  yoke  of  one? 
It  is  a  fight  of  famished  dogs  that  run 
After  a  bone,  just  thrown  away.    I  hope 
Into  its  place,  an  epoch  new  to  ope: 
Society,  which  will  protect,  and  which 
Will  in  rewards,  that  will  inspire,  be  rich, 
That  causes  man  no  fear,  but  spurs  him  on, 
Where  all  its  powers  act  in  unison, 
As  science,  blossoming  sublimely  grand, 


THE    TRAGEDY  174 

OF    MAN 

And  reason  pure,  that  doth  its  rules  command. 
That  thus  the  world  will  be,  e'en  now  I  feel 
Take  me  there,  Lucifer,  hear  my  appeal. 

LUCIFER. 

Vain  man !  because  so  limited  thy  sight, 
Thou  see'st  but  chaos  there;  that  to  unite 
Those  forces,  there  be  no  work  combined; 
But  in  the  workshop  of  our  lives,  can'st  find 
It  all,  if  thou  wilt  view  with  spirit's  eye 
Their  work  for  us  and  not  their  dwarfish  /. 
(It  has  grown  dark.    All  in  the  market  place  have 
formed  a  group,  digging  a  grave  in  the  centre, 
and  into  which  some  mutely,  some  speaking,  al- 
ternately jump.) 

CHORUS. 

To  work!  now  let  the  spade  resound; 
For  to-day  it  must  be  done; 
To-morrow,  it  will  be  too  late, 
The  mighty  work  that  is  begun 
Though  ages  pass,  will  never  end. 
Cradle,  coffin,  are  but  one; 
What  on  the  morrow  will  begin 
Ever  hungry,  ever  sated, 
It  gapes  anew,  what  e'er  therein, 
May  enter. 

(The  death  knell  tolls.) 
'Tis  o'er — we  rest. — At  morn 
The  mighty  work  will  be  resumed 
By  those  who  to  new  life  are  born. 

PUNCH   AND  JUDY   MAN. 
The  comedy  is  out; 
They  ring  the  curtain  down, 


175  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

I  entertained  the  crowd; 
Who  entertained  the  clown? 

THE  INNKEEPER. 
Empty  the  glasses 
Of  each  honored  guest ; 
Good  night,  my  dear  friends; 
I  go  to  my  rest. 

LITTLE   MAID. 

The  little  violets  are  faded  now, 
But  others  o'er  my  grave  will  bloom,  I  trow. 

GYPSY  WOMAN. 

Each  one  would  see  revealed,  the  future's  night; 
But  now  they  hide  their  eyes,  dumb  with  affright. 

LOVELL. 

No  joy  to  me,  from  riches  e'er  did  come ; 
But  now,  I'll  find  repose  within  the  tomb. 

WOEKMAN. 

The  week  is  gone,  and  Saturday  night  is  here ; 
My  labor  o'er  at  last,  and  rest  is  near. 

STUDENT. 

Sweet  things  I  dreamt,  but  ever  did  awake. 
Come,  beauteous  dream!   naught  now  the  spell  can 
break. 

SOLDIER. 

Full  of  conceit,  I  thought  myself  so  brave; 
When  lo!  I  stumble  into  this  mean  cave. 

COURTESAN. 

The  orgies  are  done,  and  paled,  the  pigment's  bloom ; 
How  cold  it  is  here;  is  it  warm  down  in  the  tomb? 


THE    TRAGEDY  176 

OF    MAN 


PRISONER. 

Fetters,  remain  above  the  worthless  dust! 
I  feel,  there  is  beyond  a  judge  more  just. 

CHABLATAN. 

How  we  deceived  each  other,  claiming  all  to  know ; 
Confounded  now   we   stand,    'fore   that  which   truth 
doth  show. 

EVE. 

Why  at  my  feet  dost  lie,  thou  depth  of  night? 
Think  me  not  by  thy  darkness  to  affright; 
For  with  the  halo  thee  I  can  defy. 
The  dust,  the  earth-born,  in  thy  depths  must  lie; 
The  angel  of  youth,  of  poetry  and  love; 
For  me  shall  ope  th'  eternal  gates  above. 
My  smile  to  earth,  will  bring  bliss  from  above, 
Such  bliss  will  bring,  as  sun  rays  leave 
On  hallowed  faces. 

(Drops  her  veil  into  the  grave  and  is  carried  heaven- 
ward in  a  halo.) 

LUCIFEB. 
Dost  know  her? 

ADAM. 
Ah!  Eve!  Eve! 


177  THE  TRAGEDY 

OF  MAN 


SCENE  XII. 

(The  courtyard  of  a  Phalanstery,  built  in  the  stiape 
of  a  V.  In  the  corridor  to  the  right,  a  number  of 
laborers  are  busy  with  machinery,  all  in  motion. 
In  the  corridor  to  the  left  a  savant  is  at  work 
amidst  a  mass  of  mechanical  and  astronomical 
appliances  and  a  chemical  laboratory.  All  per- 
sons in  the  Phalanstery  wear  a  uniform.  Adam 
and  Lucifer  rise  suddenly  from  the  earth  in  the 
centre  of  the  courtyard.) 

ADAM. 
Where  are  we  now?    What  people's  this,  what  land? 

LUCIFEB. 

Land,  people,  are  conceptions  obsolete. 
Was  it  not  small  to  speak  of  fatherland? 
Was  it  not  with  blind  prejudice  replete? 
And  did  not  narrow  minds  keep  it  alive? 
All  of  the  wide  world  through  which  we  roam 
Henceforth,  forever,  is  all  mankind's  home, 
In  one  great  work  all  men  associate, 
One  great  thought  in  all  minds  reverberate, 
And  o'er  the  order  which  throughout  obtains, 
Science,  honored,  strict  scrutiny  maintains. 

ADAM. 

My  soul's  ideals  then  have  form  assumed; 
The  fashions  of  the  past  are  then  entombed, 
But  I  regret  that  the  conception  home 
Exists  no  more;  it  should  have  stood,  the  dome 
Of  Heaven's  not  safer,  and  could  have  stood 
E'en  in  the  order  new  of  things,  and  good 


THE    TRAGEDY  178 

OF    MAN 

Had  been  its  influence.    The  human  mind 

Fears  what  is  infinite  and  seeks  to  find 

Restricting  barriers  and  without  doubt 

In  inner  worth  doth  lose,  when  spreading  out, 

To  past  and  future  jealousy  it  clings. 

I  fear,  that  for  the  world  at  large,  it  brings 

No  such  enthusiasm,  as  the  grave 

Where  buried  are,  the  loved  ones  who  gave 

It  life.     He,  who  doth  willing  sacrifice 

His  life  for  those  who  by  the  sacred  ties 

Of  blood  and  birth  to  him  are  near  and  dear, 

Has  for  the  friend  a  sympathetic  tear. 

LUCIFES. 

In  thy  ideals  thou  find'st  flaws,  I  ween, 
Before  thou  hast  them  e'en  embodied  seen.* 

ADAM. 

Indeed  not !  but  I  am  curious  to  know 
Just  what  idea  'tis  to  which  we  owe 
The  unity  of  all  the  world,  the  fire 
Enthusiasm,  which  their  hearts  inspire 
Kindled  before  by  ev'ry  small  affair. 
Achieving  petty  victories, — to  care 
But  for  the  highest  aims  of  life.    Tell  me 
However,  first  where  we  are  now?     I  see 
A  place  and  people  I  ne'er  saw  before, 
Then  lead  me  to  those  joys  which  are  in  store 
For  me,  whose  soul  will  find  reward  for  all 
The  woe  from  which  it  suffered,  war  and  cabal. 

LUCIFER. 

This  is  one  of  many  phalansteries, 
Of  modern  man ;  the  modern  home  it  is. 


179  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 
Come,  then! 

LUCIFER. 
No,   wait! 

Before  we  go  we  must 

Put  on  some  new  disguise.     This  ancient  crust 
Cast  off.    They'd  not  believe  in  us ;  to  learn 
'Bout  us,  these  savants  would  put  us  in  turn, 
In  chemical   retorts. 

ADAM. 

Again  thou  art 
But  playing  the  teasing,  mocking  devil's  part. 

LUCIFER. 
But  in  the  spirit  world  it  is  quite  true. 

ADAM. 

Do  as  thou  wilt;  and  do  it  quickly  too! 
(Lucifer    transforms    l)oth    of    them,    attiring    them 
similarly  to  the  occupants  of  the  phalanstery.) 

LUCIFER. 

Here,  take  this  cloak,  and  hide  thy  curly  lock 
Of  hair.     We're  ready  now. 

ADAM. 

Then  let  us  knock 
There  at  the  door  of  the  great  scientist. 

LUCIFER. 
Savant,  I  give  thee  greeting  heartiest. 

THE    SAVANT. 

Important  is  my  work ;  don't  bother  me, 
I  can  not  take  the  time  to  chat,  you  see. 


THE    TRAGEDY  180 

OF    MAN 

LUCIFEB. 

I  do  regret  that  you  can  not  allow 
Two  candidates  for  learning,  who  just  now 
Thus  far,  from  the  thousandth  phalanstery  came, 
As  pupils,  hither  drawn  by  thy  great  fame, 
One  moment  of  thy  precious  time. 

SAVANT. 

My  friends, 

Your  most  praiseworthy  zeal  to  learn  commends 
Itself  to  me.    My  work  can  wait,  if  not 
E'en  one  degree,  the  heat  in  yonder  pot 
May  be  cooled  off,  and  if  then  matter  yield 
As  I  expect — when  it  appears,  congealed. 

LUCIFEE. 

Then  I  made  no  mistake,  there  did  remain 
With  you,  after  you  did  all  nature  drain. 
Humanity  pass  through  a  refining  sieve: 
The  old  time  vanity. 

SAVANT. 

I  now  receive 

You  both  with  welcome,  but  tell  me,  sir, 
Which  of  the  sciences  do  you  prefer? 

ADAM. 

Our  thirst  for  learning  never  has  been  bound 
To  one  branch  only,  but  have  pleasure  found 
The  whole  field  to  view  we  long  for  all. 

SAVANT. 

Right  here  you  err.  The  great  within  the  small 
E'en  lies  concealed.  Our  life  is  short,  take  heed, 
We  have  no  time  all  things  to  learn  and  read. 


181  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

True ;  well  I  know,  there  must  be  those  who  raise 
The  stone  or  carry  mortar  to  the  place ; 
No  structure  can  be  built  without  their  aid, 
But  no  conception  have  of  what  they've  made. 
It  is  conceived  by  the  architect  alone, 
Who  planes  no  board  and  cannot  hew  a  stone, 
Yet  he  creates  a  work  just  like  a  God. 
So  does  the    man  who  really  knows,  but  trod 
In  paths  of  learning  great. 

LUCIFEB. 

We  come  to  thee, 
That  thou,  great  man,  teach  us  this  path  to  see. 

SAVANT. 

And  you  did  well,  I  can  admire  your  zeal. 
The  mighty  twigs  of  sciences  conceal 
Beauties  of  organism  manifold; 
When  viewed  together,  we  their  charm  behold. 

LUCIFER. 
Just  as  with  women  fair. 

SAVANT. 
Chemistry  though. 

LUCIFEB. 
Its  center  is  and  makes  all  grow  and  glow. 

SAVANT. 
Well    said. 

LUCIFEB. 
But   the   mathematician   said   howe'er 


THE    TRAGEDY  182 

OF    MAN 

The  same  thing  of  his  own  branch,  so  there 
It  is. 

SAVANT. 

In  their  conceit  'tis  their  own  sphere 
They  think  the  centrum  is.     They  are  sincere, 
But  vain. 

LUCIFEE. 
In  chemistry  though  you  chose  well. 

SAVANT. 

Yes,  I  feel  safe,  safer  than  I  can  tell. 
Let  me  you  now  through  this  museum  lead. 
All  of  the  world  can  not  as  yet  succeed 
In  showing  better.     The  extinct  animal 
Of  ancient  times,  here  you  can  find  them  all, 
All  well  preserved.     Thousands  of  them  were  then 
On  earth,  and  fought  and  struggled  here  with  men, 
Who  our  forefathers  were,  a  savage  race, — 
For  the  supremacy  in  dwelling  place. 
Of  them  full  many  a  wondrous  tale  is  told. 
As  locomotive  this  one  served  of  old. 

ADAM. 

The  horse!     Not  even  one  of  a  good  race. 
Ah,  Al-Borak!  that  was  a  horse  to  praise. 

SAVANT. 

From  this  'tis  said,  that  man  began  to  learn 
To  love  him  as  a  friend,  it  did  not  earn 
A  livelihoood  by  work  assigned.     A  friend 
It  was,  that's  all,  that  it  could  comprehend 
Man's  thought,  and  faithfully  it  would  obey 
The   man's    command.      Nay,    more,    it   knew    man's 

greed 
For  property,  stood  guard  o'er  it;  did  bleed 


183  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

In  its  defense.     If  true,  I  do  not  say, 
I  state  what  I  have  heard  and  read ;  I  know 
Howe'er,  that  in  the  days  of  long  ago, 
Man  did  some  insane  notions  entertain ; 
These  stories  are  the  remnants  of  the  reign 
Of  ancient  times. 

ADAM. 

The  dog!  and  I  tell  you 
All  that  which  you  have  read  and  heard,  is  true. 

LUCIFEK. 
Adam,  take  heed!     Thou  wilt  thyself  betray. 

SAVANT. 
In  this,  you  can  the  poor  man's  slave  survey. 

ADAM. 
As  poor  men  oxen  for  the  rich  have  been. 

SAVANT. 
The  deserts'  mighty  king  can  here  be  seen. 

ADAM. 

The  lion!  here,  the  tiger;  there,  the  doe! 
What  animals  still  live,  I'd  like  to  know? 

SAVANT. 

What  a  question!     Is't  with  you  otherwise? 
The  animals  still  live,  which  science  in  no  wise 
Could  ever  substitute.     The  hog  and  the  sheep, 
For  instance ;  but  e'en  they're  no  longer  cheap, 
Poor  specimens  of  what  our  broken  down 
Old  nature  could  produce ;  on  these  we  frown. 
Our  hogs  are  living  fat,  and  meat  and  wool 
Our  sheep.     In  each  we  recognize  a  tool 


THE    TRAGEDY  184 

OF    MAN 

For  our  ends  used,  like  the  retort,  by  rule 

And  regulation,  laid  down  by  our  school. 

It  seems,  howe'er  you  know  our  animals, 

So  let  me  show  you  now  our  minerals. 

Look  at  this  mighty  block!  it's  known  as  coal, 

It  used  to  be  of  industry  the  soul; 

And  mighty  mountains  were  filled  with  the  stuff, 

So  from  the  bowels  of  earth,  with  care  enough, 

Man  could  obtain,  what  we  with  minute  care 

With  scientific  methods,  gain  from  air, 

And  this  was  iron,  and  ere  the  earth's  supply 

Gave  out,  to  take  its  place,  man  did  not  try 

To  dig  aluminum.     This  ore  is  gold 

'Twas  once  the  curse  of  man ;  in  days  of  old 

A  valuable,  yet  a  worthless  thing; 

While  man  in  his  blind  faith  was  worshipping 

Beings  he  called    supreme,  and  even  thought 

Controled  his  fate,  with  all  his  might  he  sought 

To  gain  this  ore.     He  really  thought  that  this 

Caused  greatest  happiness  and  purest  bliss 

To  own  a  deal  of  it.    Welfare  and  law 

And  all  that's  sacred,  men  would  sacrifice 

For  it;  for  many  thousand  years,  men  saw 

A  bloody  strife  to  gain  what  we  despise, 

And  yet,  by  which,  it's  wondrous  to  relate 

He  could  buy  everything,  e'en  what  he  ate. 

ADAM 
I  know  all  this;  for  something  new  I  wait. 

SAVANT. 

Indeed,  stranger,  your  learning  must  be  great 
This  will  then  interest  you,  I  suppose; 
This  is  a  unique  plant;  the  last,  last  rose 
That  ever  grew  on  earth,  a  useless  plant. 


185  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Moved  by  some  fancy,  man,  extravagant, 

To  millions  of  its  sisters  then  would  yield 

The  richest  and  most  useful  of  his  field. 

To  grown  up  children  'twas  a  favorite  toy. 

We,   nowadays,   cannot   conceive   the  joy 

It  gave.     The  very  scent  and  bud  it  seems, 

Filled  men  with  fancies  and  poetic  dreams, 

With  songs  of  love  and  deep  religious  thought. 

This  weed,  then,  his  best  efforts  brought  to  naught. 

Here  we  preserve,  as  rarities  most  great 

Two  of  such  works  of  man  of  ancient  date. 

One,  the  first  poem,  and  the  author's  name, — 

Men  thought  in  their  conceit  then  but  of  fame, — 

Was  Homer,  and  on  wildest  fancy's  wings 

Us  to  a  most  phantastic  world  it  brings — 

He  Hades  calls.     To-day,  we  full  well  know 

There  is  no  place  like  that,  and  long  ago 

We  did  disprove  each  line  of  it.     And  here 

I'll  show  you  something  else ;  did'st  ever  hear 

Of  Tacitus,  who  wrote  Agricola? 

This  is  the  manuscript.    No  man  e'er  saw 

A  more  ridiculous,  but  in  the  main 

More  pitiful  description  of  the  reign 

Of  the  barbaric  race  of  long  ago. 

ADAM 

These  pages  were  then  after  all,  preserved 
— As  a  testament, — bequeathing  to  to-day 
The  ancient  spirit.     Do  you  not  fear  they  may 
Inspire  the  age  which  seems  to  be  enerved 
In  higher  aims?     And  when  it  has  done  so, 
Will  give  your  artful  world  a  deathly  blow? 

SAVANT. 
Correct.     The  observation  dawned  on  us 


THE    TRAGEDY  186 

OF    MAN 

Quite  long  ago.     We  know  'tis  dangerous, 
The  poison  they  contain.     We  therefore  hold, 
A  man  must  be  at  least  three  score  years  old, 
And  must  himself  to  science  dedicate 
Before  these  volumes  he  can  penetrate. 

ADAM 

What  of  the  fairy  stories  of  the  nurse? 
Must  not  those  tales  the  youthful  souls  immerse 
In  fancy's  dream? 

SAVANT. 

Our  nurses  therefore  sing 
No  song  which  baby's  fancy  e'er  could  bring 
Into  the  realm  of  dreams.     They  sing  and  speak 
Of  rules  in  mathematics  and  physic. 

ADAM    (Aside.) 

The  murd'rous  band!  to  rob  the  youthful  heart 
Of  all  those  things  which  to  it  bliss  impart! 

SAVANT. 

Let  us  proceed.     Look  at  these  instruments, 
Used,  we  believe,  in  certain  tournaments. 
A  cannon's  this,  its  use  unknown  to  us; 
The  inscription  on  it  is  mysterious: 
"  Ultima  ratio  regum."     With  this  sword 
Men  killed  their  fellow  men;  common  accord 
Howe'er,  made  him  who  killed,  no  murderer. 
This  instrument,  to  which  I  now  refer, 
Was  made  by  the  hand  of  man.    A  whole  life  long 
He  toiled  with  iron  will  and  courage  strong. 
To  finish  it.    He  did  not  know,  the  sun 
Could  just  as  well  be  used  for  what  is  done 
For  this  his  work ;  and  while  he,  with  intent, 


187  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

A  most  misleading  fancy,  freely  spent 
On  it,  our  own  is  excellent,  though  plain. 

ADAM    (Aside.) 
But  still,  without  a  soul,  it  doth  remain. 

SAVANT. 

These  things,  by  hundred,  are  so  childish,  look! 
A  flower  on  this  cup,  a  painted  brook 
On  that;  a  thousand  arabesques  adorn 
This  armchair's  back.     Must  we  not  ask  in  scorn 
When  we  these  things,  all  made  by  man,  behold, 
Does  man  in  such  a  chair,  sit  with  more  ease? 
Doth  this  cup  more  refreshing  water  hold? 
But  now,  with  our  machines,  we  make  all  these, 
In  their  most  simple  form,  and  are  made  well, 
Each  working  man  in  his  branch  doth  excel, 
His  skill  to  the  most  high  perfection  bring, 
They  always  work  upon  the  selfsame  thing. 

ADAM 

Therefore,  there  is  no  life,  and  this  you  see 
Destroys   all  individuality, 
Which  ever  strives,  the  master  to  excel, 
What  scope,  where  force  and  spirit  could  combine, 
To  manifest  their  origin  divine? 
When  man  aspires  to  fight,  and  looks  around, 
But  a  sedate  and  measured  life  is  found, 
Not  e'en  the  bliss  of  peril,  can  he  feel, 
There  are  no  beasts  of  prey  to  hunt  with  zeal. 
In  science  too,  from  which  I  hoped  to  gain 
The  greatest  bliss,  I  am  deceived  again. 
Instead  of  happiness,  I  was  a  fool, 
I  find  an  ordinary  children's  school. 


THE    TRAGEDY  188 

OF    MAN 


SAVANT. 

Does  not  fraternity  prevail  all  o'er? 
Is  not  material  weal  here  evermore 
Secure?     For  your  opinion  my  dear  friend, 
You,  with  full  justice  we  could  reprehend. 

ADAM 

What  is  the  ideal  then,  pray  tell  it  me, 
Which  into  such  a  race  breathes  unity, 
To  work  together  for  the  common  good? 

SAVANT. 

Our  one  idea  is,  a  livelihood. 
When  man  first  came  to  earth,  ages  ago, 
A  well  filled  larder  he  found  here  below, 
He  had  but  to  reach  out  his  hand,  and  all 
Was  his  and  was  within  his  beckon's  call, 
He  could  afford  to  live  in  thoughtless  ease, 
Just  as  the  skipper  lives  within  the  cheese; 
Had  time,  adventurous  hypotheses 
To  build  up  and  therein  to  find  the  spice 
Of  life  and  poetry  too,  as  its  prize. 
But  we  must  frugal  be  because  we  fear 
That  to  our  final  crumb  we're  coming  near. 
And  soon  our  cheese  devoured,  what  follows  then? 
To  starve  must  be  the  lot  of  thoughtless  men? 
In  just  four  thousand  years,  it  is  foretold 
The  sun  will  have  cooled  off,  the  earth  not  hold 
Life  animate  and  naught  on  it  will  grow. 
Four  thousand  years  are  ours,  so  much  we  know. 
We'll  learn  it  yet,  I  have  but  little  doubt 
To  make  a  sun  anew  and  live  without 
The  present  orb.    To  heat  with  water  is 
Adaptable,  it  will  inflame  with  ease 


189  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

When  made  its  oxygen  all  to  release. 

Our  organism's  secret  too  I  trow 

Soon  by  our  patient  research  we  shall  know. 

'Tis  well  our  talk  has  brought  this  subject  up, 

I  had  almost  forgot  retort  and  cup. 

LUCIFEB. 

Decrepit,  man  must  be,  when  to  create 
Retorts  .must  use.     But  granting  that  you  can 
At  last  the  lifeless  matter  animate 
With  life  imbue,  what  sort  of  soulless  man 
What    monstrous,    frightful     thing    will    you    have 

brought 

To  life?    What  can  he  be?     Unspoken  thought, 
Yearning  for  love,  without  an  object  e'en 
To  love.     A  love,  just  think,  built  by  machine ! 
A  being,  which  by  nature  is  denied. 
Opposing  none,  to  no  one  is  allied. 
And  whence  shall  this  abnormal  thing,  tell  me, 
Receiving  its  individuality? 
And  how,  of  man,  the  character  and  trait 
Who's  born  in  glass  retort  on  chemist's  grate? 

SAVANT. 

Behold  the  boiling  mass  in  the  retort! 
Already  here  and  there,  a  certain  sort 
Of  living  objects  seem  to  move  within 
The  glass.     Affinity,  repugnant  force, 
I  have  well  calculated,  and  of  course, 
Matter  will  yield,  the  victory  be  mine. 

LUCIFEB. 

Savant,  I  can  admire;  but  please  define 
That  which  I  comprehend  not.     Can  you  tell 


THE    TRAGEDY  190 

OF    MAN 

Me  how  antitheses  may  not  repel, 
Affinities  attract? 

SAVANT. 
Unnatural 

Is  what  you  here  suggest.    I  tell  you  all 
Of  matters,  subjected  to  a  law  I  see. 

LUCIFER. 
Upon  what  basis  built  howe'er,  tell  me! 

SAVANT. 

What  basis  built?    It  is  the  law !  we  know 
What  all  our  past  experience  does  show. 

LUCIFEK. 
You  have  the  coal,  and  nature  does  the  rest. 

SAVANT. 

But  I  its  boundless  limits  here  arrest, 
And  it  from  mystic  darkness  forth  I  call. 

LUCIFER. 
Of  life  I  see  not  any  sign  at  all. 

SAVANT. 

It  can  not  fail  to  come.     I  have  espied 
The  secrets  which  in  our  organism  hide, 
A  hundred  lives  dissected. 

ADAM 

Corpses,  dead, 

And  you  looked  for  life's  secrets,  with  life  fled. 
Science  will  drag  itself  with  limping  gait 
After  experience,  illuminate 
It.  as  the  bard,  in  service  of  the  king, 


191  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

\Yill  of  his  master's  deeds  great  paeans  sing, 
But  ne'er  foretell  them. 

SAVANT. 

Why    thus   jeer   at   me? 
One  spark  I  need,  and  life  will  come,  you  see. 

ADAM 
Oh,  yes,  one  spark,  but  whence  will  that  be  won? 

SAVANT. 
One  only  step,  that's  all!  and  all  is  done. 

ADAM 

But  who  this  only  step  has  not  yet  made, 
Has  made  no  step  at  all.    He  still  doth  wade 
In  ignorance.     Courtyard  and  portico 
Are  often  trod.     Into  the  sanctum  though 
No  man  has  entered,  who  knows  who  e'er  will? 
(During  this  the  vapor  and  smoke  above  the  retort 
grow  denser  and  <a  thundrous  noise  is  heard.) 

VOICE  OF  THE   EARTH   SPIRIT. 
Ne'er!   nobody!   however  great  his  skill, 
Too  great  and  yet  too  small  for  me's  this  glass. 
Adam !  thou  knowest  me ;  though  of  my  class 
They  have  not  even  thought. 

ADAM 

Proud  man!     You've  heard 

That  spirit  voice,  and  have  you  seen  what  stirred 
Within  that  little  cloud?    And  do  you  mean 
To  conquer  it  with  this  poor  frail  machine? 


THE    TRAGEDY  192 

OF    MAN 

SAVANT. 

Insanity's  attack !     I  fear  your  mind 
Has  been  upset. 

(Retort  breaks,  earth  spirit  disappears.) 

Alas!     What  I  designed 
Is  broken  now,  I  must  begin  anew. 
Just  when  we  with  our  work  are  almost  through 
And  we  about  to  reap  our  efforts'  due, 
A  blind  and  stupid  accident  occurs. 
And  we  are  blocked. 

LUCIFEB. 

In  former  days  adverse 
Fate  it  was  called;  by  its  destructive  force 
'Twas  less  humiliating  then,  of  course, 
To  be  defeated,  than  by  accident. 

(Bell  rings.) 

What  by  the  ringing  of  these  bells  is  meant, 
Tell  us  great  man? 

SAVANT. 

The  daily  work  is  done, 

Now  come  the  hours  of  rest,  and  one  by  one 
Come  out  the  men  from  factory  and  field 
To  hear  the  reprimand  of  those  who  shield, 
Or  plan  or  do  some  wrong,  and  now  we  too, 
The  women  and  the  children  give  their  due, 
I,  too,  am  busy  there;  come,  both  of  you. 
(In  long  lines  come  the  men,  and  in  other  lines  the 

women,  among  these  Eve  with  a  child.) 
(They   all   form   a   semicircle   in  the   courtyard.     A 
hoary  man  stands  in  the  centre.    Adam,  Lucifer 
and    the   Savant    stand    to   the    front,    near    the 
museum.) 

OLD  MAN. 
Let   number   thirty   come. 


193  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


LUTHEB  (Stepping  from  the  line.) 
Here! 

OLD  MAN. 
You  again! 

'Tis  charged  that  you  yourself  can  not  restrain, 
And  make  in  spite  of  warnings,  such  a  fire 
Beneath  the  boilers,  that  results  most  dire 
To  our  phalanster's  feared. 

LUTHEB. 

Who  can  withstand 

The  charm  of  this,  the  power  to  command 
The  fierce  and  sparkling,   shrieking  element 
When  it  with  a  thousand  tongues  licks  nourishment, 
Upon  devouring  all  and  you  is  bent ; 
To  bravely  stand  and  yet  the  flames  foment; 
To  fan  and  nurse,  and  know  within  your  soul 
You  can  subject  it  to  your  full  control. 
The  magic  charm  of  fire  he  knoweth  not, 
Who's  seen  it  only  neath  a  boiling  pot. 

OLD  MAN. 
For  this  you'll  go  to-day  without  your  meal. 

LUTHEB   (Stepping  ~back.) 
To-morrow  fan  it  I'll  with  still  more  zeal. 

ADAM 

I  know  that  man !  why,  his  features  reveal 
That  Luther  once  was  he. 

OLD  MAN. 
Two  hundred  and  nine! 


THE    TRAGEDY  194 

OF    MAN 


CASSIUS. 
Here.     (Steps  forth.) 

OLD  MAN. 

Now  the  third  time  you've  here  been  sent, 
Because  without  good  cause,  you  strife  foment. 

CASSIUS. 

Without  good  cause?    Because  I  don't  complain? 
No  coward  I,  and  therefore  I  disdain 
To  yell  for  help  while  I  can  strike  a  blow 
Why  did  he  not  defend  himself,  my  foe? 

(Steps  back.) 
OLD  MAN. 

Do  not  dispute!     Not  e'en  your  splendid  head 
From  which  the  noblest  impulses  I've  read, 
Your  deeds  excuse.     Your  blood  is  hot  and  wild, 
But  they  will  cure  you,  and  you  will  be  mild. 

ADAM. 

Ah,  Cassius,  could'st  thou  remember  me! 
How  at  Philippi  once  I  fought  with  thee! 
Have  beastly  rule  and  have  cold  theories 
Brought  such  a  state  of  things  that  such  a  mind 
As  thine,  can  not  due  recognition  find? 

OLD  MAN. 
Number  four  hundred! 

PLATO   (Steps  forth.) 
Here,  what  do  you  want? 

OLD  MAN. 
To  my  regret,  complaints  are  made  upon  't 


195  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

That  you  again  in  your  day  dreams  are  lost, 
Three  oxen  which  to  you  we  did  entrust 
Let  go  astray.     That  you  awake,  you  must 
On  dried  peas  kneel. 

PLATO. 

But  even  when  I  kneel, 
I  cogitate,  and  happiness  I  feel. 

(Steps  lack.) 

ADAM. 

Ah,  Plato!  what  a  r61e  't  is  thou  must  play 
In  the  society  thou  didst  essay 
To   regulate. 

OLD  MAN. 
Number  seventy! 

MICHAEL  ANGELO. 
Here!   (Steps  forth.) 

OLD  MAN. 

Thy  workshop's  in  disorder  left,  I  hear. 

MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

I  made  and  made  naught  else  but  feet  of  chairs 
The  plainest  of  the  kind  at  that,  these  wares 
I  asked  to  be  allowed  to  carve  and  make 
More  ornamental ;  asked  leave  to  forsake 
The  iron  rules,  eternally  the  same, 
To  make  things  beautiful  was  my  one  aim 
I  importuned  and  begged,  but  all  in  vain ; 
Monotony  made  me  almost  insane, 
I  left  my  shop,  just  as  it  was,  my  brain 
In  a  whirl. 

(Steps  lack.) 
OLD  MAN. 
This  breach  must  punished  be. 


THE    TRAGEDY  196 

OF    MAN 

Go  to  your  room  to-day  you  shall  not  see 
The  glorious  sun. 

ADAM. 

Oh!  Michael  Angelo! 

What  tempests  must  within  thy  bosom  blow 
When  forced  to  dull  routine,  can'st  not  create. 
I  see  around  here  friends,  I  know  the  fate 
Of  all,  I  know  that  what  they  represent 
Is  force  and  genius  magnificent. 
One  fought  with  me,  one  died  a  martyr's  death, 
For  one  the  limits  of  the  world's  too  small, 
And  what  my  eye  now  here  encountereth 
By  its  eternal  sameness  doth  appall. 
All  that  was  heretofore  great  and  sublime 
To  dwarfish  nothingness  reduced  by  time. 
Come  Lucifer!     I  can't  endure  the  sight. 

OLD  MAN. 

Two  children  were  brought  here,  so  that  we  might 
Now  they  their  mothers'  care  no  longer  need, 
And  for  the  common  good,  we  must  proceed 
To  care  for  them,  decide  their  future  fate. 
(Eve  and  another  woman  step   forth,  each   leading 
her  child.) 

ADAM. 

How  beautiful!  a  sight  to  captivate 
The  most  exacting  eye!  has  e'en  this  state, 
Cold  and  exacting,   rays  which  warm  the  heart? 
True  Poetry! 

LUCIFEB. 
Adam!  shall  we  depart? 

ADAM. 
No,  Sir,  we  shall  remain. 


197  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


OLD  MAN. 
Wise  man,  proceed, 

From  the  formation  of  their  skull  to  read, 
To  see  into  what  groove  their  minds  shall  turn, 
What   specialties   they   shall   be   made   to   learn. 
(The  Savant  examines  the  children's  heads.) 

EVE. 
What  is  to  come  to  me? 

ADAM. 
That  voice! 

LUCIFER. 
What  is 

To  thee,  this  woman,  who  Semiramis 
Hast  held  in  warm  embrace? 

ADAM. 

Ah!  Lucifer, 

I  did  not  know  this  one  then;  why  refer 
To  bygone  days? 

LTTCIFEB. 

This  is  the  good  old  song 
Of  lovers  e'er  on  earth,  who  all  along 
Will  claim  that  they  are  the  discoverers 
Of  love,  and  each  of  them,  pouting,  demurs, 
When  told  that  love  is,  since  the  universe 
Exists,  all  mankind's  curse. 

SAVANT. 

This  one  shall  a  physician  be  in  time, 
This  one  in  pastures  roam  and  trees  shall  climb. 


THE    TRAGEDY  198 

OP    MAN 


OLD  MAN. 
Take  them  away. 
(The  children  are  to  be  taken  away,  Eve  interferes.) 

EVE. 

I  earnestly  protest! 
Who  dares  to  tear  my  child  thus  from  my  breast! 

OLD  MAN. 
Take  them  away!  who  dares  to  disobey? 

EVE. 

My  darling  child,  I  nursed  thee  night  and  day 
With  my  heart's  blood.    Where  is  the  brutal  heart 
Those  sacred  ties  would  rend,  and  dear  ones  part 
Forever.     To  thee  then  must  I  say  good-bye. 
Lost  in  the  crowd,   thee  nevermore  espy? 

ADAM. 

If  of  all  holy  feeling  not  bereft, 
Then  with  its  mother  let  this  child  be  left. 

EVE. 

Ah!  yes,  'tis  so,  thou  stranger  bless'd! 
Induce  these  men  to  yield  to  my  request. 

OLD  MAN. 

A  daring  game  thou  play'st.    If  we  again 
The  prejudice  of  family  entertain! 
The  structure  holy  science  built  with  care 
Is  quickly  overthrown;  therefore  beware! 

EVE. 

What  do  I  care  for  what  chill  science  says? 
But  sacred  's  that,  the  mother's  voice  betrays. 


399  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

OLD  MAN. 
Well,  move! 

ADAM. 

Don't  dare  to  touch  it.    I'll  command 
This  good  old  sword  I  have  here  in  my  hand. 

LUCIFEB. 

Dream  picture  animate,  stand  still! 
(Puts   his   hand  on  Adam,   who  as  if   by   a  shock, 
stands  motionless.) 

I'll  show 
That  with  one  touch  thy  will  I  overthrow. 

EVE. 
My  child! 

(Faints.) 
OLD  MAN. 

No  mates  have  those  two  women  there; 
Let  those  report,  to  have  them  who  would  care. 

ADAM   (Goes  to  Eve.) 
This  one  I  claim. 

OLD  MAN. 
Wise  man,  what  do  you  think? 

SAVANT. 

Excitable  is  he,  and  nervous  she, 
Their  offspring  but  a  dwarfish  race  would  be. 

ADAM. 
If  she  desire  me,  from  here  I  shall  not  move. 

EVE. 
Most  noble  stranger,  thee  alone  I  love. 


THE    TRAGEDY  200 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 
I  love  thee  with  all  the  fervor  of  my  heart. 

EVE. 
I'm  thine  forevermore!     Naught  shall  us  part. 

SAVANT. 

This  is  insanity!     We  here  behold, 
The  ghastly  spectres  of  the  days  of  old, 
In  our  enlightened  age,  what  does  it  mean? 

ADAM. 
A  ray  of  Eden,  therein  may  be  seen. 

OLD  MAN. 
I  pity  you,  poor  man. 

ADAM. 

Don't  pity  me 

Although  my  lot  may  be  insanity, 
All  that's  sublime,  is  born  of  insane  thought 
Like  unto  ours,  which  your  stern  modes  have  sought 
To  limit.     A  spirit  voice  doth  come  to  us 
From  nobler  spheres,  sweetly  harmonious 
To  prove  the  kinship  of  our  souls,  we  see 
The  path  to  higher  spheres,  which  makes  us  free. 

(Embraces  Eve.) 

OLD  MAN. 
Let  him  into  the  hospital  be  cast! 

LUCIFER. 
A  quick  resolve!    Adam,  we'll  travel  fast. 

(Adam  and  Lucifer  suddenly  disappear.) 


201  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


SCENE    XIII. 

(Space.  In  the  distance  a  segment  of  our  earth,  con- 
stantly diminishing,  until  it  appears  as  a  star, 
mingling  with  the  other  stars.  The  scene  begins 
in  dusk,  which  gradually  deepens  into  total 
darkness.  Adam  as  an  old  man,  with  Lucifer, 
flying  through  the  air.) 

ADAM. 
Say,  whither  tends  this  mad  and  furious  flight? 

LUCIFER. 

Did'st  thou  not  long  to  rise  to  higher  spheres, 
Freed  from  the  earthly  dross,  whence  if  aright 
I   understood  thee,  throughout  all  these  years; 
The  voice  of  kindred  souls  e'er  from  the  height 
Thou  heard'st? 

ADAM. 

'Tis  true,  but  never  did  I  dreaui. 
The  way,  so  drear,  and  with  such  gloom  would  teem. 
How  barren  is  this  place,  how  strange,  how  dread, 
As  if  some  profanation  here  might  tread. 
Within  my  soul  two  sentiments  obtain, 
I  feel  that  all  the  earth  is  void,  and  vain, 
Her  narrow  sphere.     My  soul  oppressed,  doth  yearn 
To  flee,  but  tearful  now,  longs  to  return. 
Ah!   Lucifer,   look  back   upon  our   sphere. 
Dost  see,  how  first  the  flowers  disappear, 
How  vanish  then  the  forests'  swaying  crowns? 
And  now,  the  well  known  villages  and  towns, 
Transformed  into  those  characterless  spots, 
Then  fade  and  vanish  quite.    To  tiny  blots 
Are  shrunk  the  mighty  cliffs  we  viewed  before; 


THE    TRAGEDY  202 

OF    MAN 

The  clouds,   surcharged  with  light'ning  from   which 

roar 

Those  thund'rous  voices,  which  affright  all  men, 
Who  in  their  fear  seek  shelter  in  their  den; 
But  in  which  voices  they  presume  to  hear 
A  supernatural  call,  see!  from  this  sphere 
But  a  mean  cloud  of  vapor  seems  to  be. 
Behold!  where  is  the  boundless  mighty  sea? 
A  thread  it  seemeth,  tenuous  and  gray, 
On  that  far  globe  down  there  which  rolls  away 
Amidst  its  million  sister  stars.     Ah!  see, 
That  tiny  star!     'Twas  heretofore  for  me. 
Oh!  Lucifer!  therein  must  she  remain? 

LUCIFER. 

From  our  exalted  standpoint,  this  is  vain, 
When  from  this  height,  we  look  on  things  below, 
As  first  the  charming  details  lose  their  glow, 
Their  force  and  grandeur  fade,  through  vision's  trick, 
And  what  remains,  is  cold  arithmetic. 

ADAM. 

We've  left  the  stars  behind  us,  there  in  space, 
I  see  no  goal ;  no  obstacles  I  trace. 
Ah!  Lucifer,  I'm  cold.     What  is  all  life 
Without  the  bliss  of  loving  and  of  strife? 

L.UCIFEB. 

Well,  if  thy  heroism's  at  an  end, 

Let  us  return  our  days  in  dust  to  spend. 

ADAM. 

What  dost  thou  say?     Let's  boldly  forward  go, 
I  have  no  fear.     I'll  feel  the  earthly  woe 

Until   forever  broken   are  the   ties 


203  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Which  o'er  our  earthly  being  exercise 

Their  influence.    But  ah!     What  can  this  be? 

I  can  not  breathe — my  strength  is  leaving  me 

My  senses  all  bewildered.     Is  it  more 

Than  fable,  told  of  Anthaeus  of  yore, 

Who  but  in  contact  with  the  dust  could  live? 

VOICE  OF  THE  EARTH  SPIRIT. 
'Twas  more  than  fable  told,  thou  can'st  believe, 
I  need  not  tell  my  name ;  thou  knowest  me, 
The  spirit  of  the   Earth ;   the  boundary 
To  all  my  power  is  this.     Return,  I  say, 
And  thou  wilt  live;  proceed,  and  thou  must  pay 
An  awful  penalty.     Thou  wilt  be  lost 
Thou'rt  like  the  infusoria,   when   tossed 
Within  a  drop  of  water,  and  to  thee, 
The  earth  is  this  one  drop. 

ADAM. 

To   frighten  me, 

Thou  seek'st  in  vain;  my  body  may  be  thine, 
The  soul  within  me  though,  is  mine,  and  mine 
Alone!     No  bounds  are  set  for  truth  and  thought, 
For  they  existed  e'en  before  was  brought 
Thy  world  of  matter  into  life. 

VOICE  OF  THE  EARTH  SPIRIT. 

Vain  man! 

A  punishment  most  dire  will  meet  thy  plan! 
Was  fragrance  of  the  rose  before  the  rose? 
Does  form  exist  before  the  body  grows? 
And  light  before  the  sun?    Oh!  could'st  behold 
Thy  lone  soul  whirl  through  boundless  space,  as  cold 
It  seeks  with  might,  and  ever  seeks  in  vain 
Amid  its  strange  surroundings,  to  retain 


THE    TRAGEDY  204 

OF    MAN 

Perception,  and  the  power  thought  t'  express, 

But  dazed  exerts   itself  without   success. 

Thoud'st  shudder  with  affright,  for  all  sensations, 

All  perceptions,  are  but  emanations 

Of  this  material  mass  thou  callest  earth; 

Without  earth,  thou  and  I  had  never  birth. 

What  in  thy  narrow  home  prevails,  the  fair, 

The  beautiful,  infernal  woe  and  care, 

Is  from  my  spirit  drawn.     What  truth  is,  here, 

Were  imagined  in  another  sphere; 

What's  here  impossible,  were  nature  there; 

And  thought  may  be,  which  here  is  only  air. 

There  where  exist  nor  gravity,  nor  weight, 

Nor  motion  line  in  substance  animate, 

That  which  to  us  is  light,  may  there  be  sound 

And  crystal,  that  which  here  as  germ  is  found. 

ADAM. 

Think  not  that  me  thou  so  canst  terrify; 
For  upward  still,  my  soul  doth  long  to  fly. 

LUCIFER. 

Adam !  Adam !     Now  at  last  is  near, 
Thy  fate's  decisive  moment.     A  career 
Of  greatness  will  be  thine,  if  thou  to  earth 
Return'st;  but  if  from  out  the  cosmic  girth 
Dost  wrest  thyself,  God  ne'er  will  tolerate 
Thee  in  his  sight,  but  thee  annihilate. 

ADAM. 
Does  not  decay  come  too  with  death? 

EABTH  SPIEIT. 

Repeat 
Not  in  this  sphere,  where  spirits  have  their  seat, 


205  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

The  vain  and  mocking  word  of  the  ancient  lie, 

For  all  creation  it  doth  terrify. 

A  sacred  seal  it  is,  and  the  Lord's  own, 

Which  in  his  wisdom,  can  by  him  alone 

Be  broken;  not  by  him,  who  of  the  tree 

Of  knowledge  ate. 

ADAM. 

I'll  break  it  though. 

(Adam  and  Lucifer  fly  on.  Adam  suddenly  screams.) 
Ah,  me! 

LUCIFEB   (Laughing.) 
The  ancient  lie  has  triumphed. 

(Pushes  Adam  aside.) 
In  the  void 

This  puppet  now,  as  a  new  asteroid, 
May  whirl,  whereon  new  life  may  grow,  for  me. 

VOICE  OF  THE  EABTH  SPIEIT. 
No,  Lucifer,  too  soon  thou  show'st  thy  glee. 
One  can't  break  through  my  realm,  with  such  great 

ease. 
He   only   touched  the   strange   world's   boundaries 

(To  Adam.) 
My  son,  the  voice  of  home  is  calling  thee. 

ADAM    (Recovering  consciousness.) 
I  live  again!     In  suffering  though  I  be, 
But  ah!  the  pain  itself  is  sweet.    To  lie 
Annihilated,  crushed  in  heart  and  brain 
Is  awful !     Lucifer,  oh,  let  us  fly 
Toward  home.     Give  me  again  my  earthly  reign. 
There,  where  many  a  strife  I've  fought  in  vain. 
I'll  strive  again. 


THE    TRAGEDY  206 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFEB. 

And   thou  dost  still  believe. 
That  thou  at  last,  shalt  victory  achieve? 
And  reach  the  goal?    This  soul  so  credulous 
To  man  alone  is  homogeneous. 

ADAM. 

No  such  deceptive  dream  allureth  me; 
I  know  a  hundred  times  I'll  baffled  be, 
I  do  not  care.    What,  after  all  's  the  end? 
The  end — when  glory's  o'er — I  apprehend, 
The  end,  is  death,  and  life  is  constant  strife; 
The  aim  of  man,  to  struggle  throughout  life. 

LUCIFEB. 

A  solace  fine  is  this.     If  only  high 
Were  the  ideals  which  inspire  our  fight, 
That  for  which  yesterday,  we  wished  to  die, 
To-day,  but  scorn  or  ridicule  invites. 
At  Charonea  thou  for  freedom  fought'st, 
Yet,  later  on,  with  Constantine  thou  sought'st 
To  make  him  master  of  the  world.     Did'st  thou 
Not  then,  with  a  martyr's  crown  upon  thy  brow, 
Die  for  the  faith  and  then  with  arms,  once  more, 
Not  seek  to  controvert,  with  science  lore 
The  dicta  of  the  church? 

ADAM. 

'Tis  but  the  same. 

I  had  ideals  then,  with  which  there  came 
To  me  enthusiasm  which  therefore 
Were  grand,  sublime,  and  which  then  onward  bore 
My  soul.    Though  science  or  the  cross,  it  be, 
Ambition,  or  the  call  of  liberty, 


207  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

It  elevates ;  mankind  has  gained  thereby, 
And  fight  anew — then  let  us  homeward  fly. 

LUCIFEB. 

Dost  not  remember  what  the  savant  said, 
That  in  four  thousand  years  the  world  were  dead, 
All  strife  and  battle  ceased? 

ADAM. 

Yes,  unless  man 

Nature  subdue.     I  feel,  y,ea,  know,  he  can 
Do  that  in  time. 

LUCIFEB. 

Suppose  thou'rt  right?     Will  there 
Be  strife  and  force,  and  might  be  found 
Within  a  world  where  theories  prevail? 

ADAM. 

But  let  the  earth  be  saved,  and  without  fail ; 
That  too,  like  all  things  else,  its  mission  fill'd, 
Will  pass  away,  but  mind  and  heart,  not  chill'd, 
Again  will   for  some  new  ideal  glow! 
But  take  me  back!  for  now  I  fain  would  know 
For  what  new  principles  again  I'll  burn, 
There  in  that  world  redeemed. 

LUCIFEB. 
Let  us  return! 


THE    TRAGEDY  208 

OF    MAN 


SCENE    XIV. 

(A  mountainous  and  treeless  region,  covered  with 
snow  and  ice.  The  sun,  like  a  red,  rayless  ball, 
is  seen  through  a  mist.  Twilight.  In  the  fore- 
ground, -an  Esquimo  hut,  surrounded  by  a  few 
dwarfed  birches,  junipers  and  bushes  of  black- 
thorn. Adam,  as  a  superannuated  man,  with  a 
staff,  is  seen,  with  Lucifer,  descending  the  moun- 
tains. ) 

ADAM. 

Wherefore  roam  we  arnid  this  world  of  snow, 
Where  death,  all  hollow  eyed,  where'er  we  go, 
Meets  us,  and  only  here  and  there  a  seal 
Doth  stir,  and  at  approaching  steps  doth  feel 
Affright,  and  throws  itself  into  the  sea? 
All  nature  seemeth  dead;  no  grass,  no  tree, 
But  dwarf'd  boughs,  and  there  the  moon  gleams  red 
Behind  the  mist,  like  a  death-lamp  in  the  dread 
And  dismal   crypts.     Lead   hence,   where   the   green 

palm   grows, 
Where  the  sun  shines  bright,  the  fair  home  of  the 

rose. 

There  where  man's  soul,  in  consciousness  of  strength 
Has  fought,  and  conquered  over  all,  at  length. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  we  are  there.     This  blood  red  ball's  thy  sun; 
Th'  equator  here  beneath  our  feet  doth  run, 
For  science  has  not  won  the  victory. 

ADAM. 

Grim  world!    Where  only  death  a  good  can  be, 
To  part  gives  me  no  pain,  who  long  ago, 


209  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

At  mankind's  cradle  stood,  and  saw  him  grow, 
And  fought  with   him,    for  justice,   truth  and   light 
And  with  him,  hoped  for  days  of  future  bright, 
Who  while  this  mighty  grave  yard  now  I  view, 
O'er  which  doth  rest,  the  pall's  funereal  hue, 
By  nature  spread;  I,  who  was  once  the  first, 
Now,  last  man  on  the  earth;  ah,  me!  I  thirst 
To  know,  how  did  my  race  fall?    Did  it  die, 
In  glorious  strife,  with  victory's  proud  cry 
Upon  its  lips,  or  slowly  did  decay, 
From  sire  to  son,  grow  weaker  with  each  day, 
Unworthy  of  a  tear? 

LUCIFEB. 
I  see  that  vain 

Art  thou  of  that  soul  of  thine,  as  thou  dost  call 
The  force  which  makes  the  blood  flow  in  the  brain 
Of  youth,  with  mighty  thoughts  it  to  enthrall, 
But  do  not  ask  to  stand  at  thine  own  bier; 
This  hour  will  make  it  wonderfully  clear 
To  thee,  the  reckonings  of  life  unpaid, 
Bright  pictures  by  life's  fevers  drawn,  must  fade 
And  vanish,  in  death's  agonizing  throes ; 
And  what  was  life,  but  just  a  dream,  who  knows? 
The  feeble  cry  of  this  last  woe  of  life 
Is  but  a  jeer  at  all  our  earthly  strife. 

ADAM. 

Why  then,  was  I  not  lost  on  yonder  height, 
Full  conscious  of  my  soul  and  strength?     I  might 
Have  spared  myself  all  this,  to  hear  my  own 
Funeral  oration,  in  this  mocking  tone, 
Delivered  by  a  spirit,  who  to  me 
Has  never  shown  one  jot  of  sympathy, 
Who  for  my  valiant  deeds,  e'en  does  not  care, 
And  who  with  me,  my  death  e'en  does  not  share. 


THE    TRAGEDY  210 

OF    MAN 


LUCIFER. 

I  recognize  thy  genus  by  the  tear 
Thou  shed'st;  fantastic  hankering  for  clear 
Conceptions.     Never  fear;  thy  race  must  be 
Still  in  existence.     Look,  and  thou  wilt  see 
A  dwelling  of  mankind,  and  from  his  lair 
Comes  now  the  master,  thy  proud  race's  heir. 
(An  Esquimo,  armed  for  a  seal  hunt,  comes  out  of 
the  hut.) 

ADAM. 

And  in  this  caricature  a  man — my  kin — 
The  heir  of  all  the  greatness  I  did  win? 
Why,  Lucifer,  did'st  let  me  see,  and  know? 
The  solace  is  more  bitter  than  the  woe. 

THE   ESQUIMO. 

Are  gods  above  us  still?     Here  I  see  two 
Strange  gods  approaching  me.     I  wish  I  knew 
If  their  intent  might  good,  or  evil  be ; 
But  safest  'tis  from  them  to  quickly  flee. 

(Starts  to  Retire.) 

LUCIFEB. 
Stop  man!  one  word! 

ESQUIMO    (Falling   to   his   knees.) 

Pity,  my  gracious  Lord! 
The  first  seal  I  can  slay,  I  give  my  word, 
I'll  sacrifice  to  thee,  but  hear  my  prayer; 
My  life,  O  gracious  sire,  do  thou  but  spare! 

LUCIFEB. 

And  to  that  seal,  what  right  hast  thou,  tell  me 
That  with  Its  life,  thine  own  thou  dost  redeem? 


211  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

ESQUIMO. 

The  right  of  force.  Do  I  not  always  see 
The  insect  snatched  by  fishes  in  the  stream? 
The  seal  devours  the  fish,  the  seal  I  slay. 

LUCIFEB. 

And  thou  of  the  Great  Spirit  wilt  be  prey. 

ESQUIMO. 

I  know,  1  know,  but  this  brief  span  of  time 
He  grants  me  in  his  mercy  so  sublime, 
I  purchase  with  a  bloody  sacrifice. 

ADAM. 
What  cowardly  views! 

LUCIFEB. 

And   did'st   thou   otherwise? 
He  sacrifices  seals,  while  thou  kill'dst  men, 
In  honor  of  that  God  thy  fancy  wrought, 
Just  as  his  fancy,  his  own  God  has  sought, 
Why  wilt  thou  be  so  proud  and  haughty,  then? 

ESQUIMO. 

I  see  thou'rt  wrathful,  and  the  reason  I 
Can  feel,  because  in  woe,  I  dared  to  sigh 
To  him,  the  great  and  good  sungod,   who  e'er 
Spends  his  benevolence,  and  doth  not  care 
To  take,  yet  always  gives ;  tradition  says, 
He  here  did  rule  supreme,  in  ancient  days. 
Forgive,  and  him  I'll  curse  for  aye. 

ADAM. 

With  shame 


THE    TRAGEDY  212 

OF    MAN 

Oh!  God!  look  down  on  man,  whom  in  thy  name, 
In  thine  own  image  mad'st. 

ESQUIMO. 

Thy  friend  I  see 
Is  very  angry;  may  he  hungry  be? 

LUCIFER. 
He  would  not  be  so  wrathful  if  he  were. 

ADAM. 
Bad,  ill  timed  jokes  thou  mak'st,  I  must  aver. 

LUCIFEB. 

No  joke;  the  truth  was  that  to  him  I  said, 
Thy  logic's  that  but  of  the  man  well  fed, 
While  this  man  with  his  empty  stomach  thinks; 
From  reason  and  philosophy  he  shrinks. 
You  can't  convince  each  other;  you'll  agree 
However,  quick  enough;  as  soon  as  he 
A  good  meal  has,  and  thou  hast  hungry  grown, 
Thou  may'st  idealize;  what  best  is  known 
In  man's  the  brute,  and  when  his  craving's  stilled, 
He  is  with  proud  selfconsciousness  well  filled, 
And  dareth  to  despise  the  elements 
Which  make  him  what  he  is. 

ADAM. 

Thy  compliments 

Are  worthy  of  thyself.     Do  I  not  know 
That  all  that's  sacred  thou  drag'st  into  low, 
Vile  dross,  maliciously,  and  that  to  thee 
All  that  is  good  and  great,  is  but  the  steam 
Escaping  from  the  boiling  pot  of  life, 
Or  but  a  circumstance  to  be,  doth  seem ; 


213  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

Which  must  obtain  in  this  our  daily  strife, 
As  matter  subject  to  some  law  supreme? 

LUCIFER. 

And  dost  thou  truly  think  'tis  otherwise? 
Dost  think  that  at  Thermopyla}  the  prize 
Of  valor  had  Leonidas  achieved, 
If  elsewhere  than  in  Sparta  he  had  lived? 
In  Sparta  where  they  had  no  money  e'en 
And  on  plain  brown  soup  fed?    And  dost  thou  mean 
That  had  he  known  of  the  Lucullean  feast, 
And  all  the  lustful  pleasures  of  the  east, 
He'd  now  immortal  be?     Had  Brutus  died, 
If  to  fair  Portia's  chambers  he  had  hied 
To  rest  from  his  encounters,  and  to  dine? 
To  vice  and  virtue  grow.     Shall  I  assign 
The  cause  thereof?     One's  bred  in  foulest  air 
And  misery ;  the  other  one,  how  e'er, 
In  warmth  and  light,  created  by  the  sun, 
And  love  of  freedom,  which  from  sire  to  son, 
Is  left  as  an  inheritance,  and  which, 
Selfsame  in  form  and  substance,  did  enrich 
The  human  race.    How  many  men  have  said, 
"  I'm  done  with  life !  "  and  barren  of  all  hope, 
Committed  suicide,  with  a  stout  rope! 
Were  they  howe'er,  cut  down  in  time  and  saved, 
They  had  forgotten  how  death  they  had  craved. 
And  were  e'en  glad  to  live.    Let  us  suppose, 
That  Hunyadi  the  great,  came  not  of  those 
Brave  Magyars,  but  had  been  born  as  a  slave, 
Of  Moorish  parentage,  what  would  have  been 
His  place  in  life,  in  whom  the  world  has  seen 
The  greatest  hero  Christendom  hath  known? 
If  Luther  had  been  to  the  papal  throne 
Elected,  and  had  Leo  chanced  to  be 


THE    TRAGEDY  214 

OF    MAN 

Head  of  a  German  university, 

The  former  would  perhaps  then  have  sent  out 

Encyclicals,  while  Leo,  in  his  doubt, 

Protested  and  reformed.     And  if  a  land 

Had  not  with  its  life  blood  helped  the  wars,  planned 

By  a  Napoleon,  would  he  be  known? 

His  share  were  ignominy,  not  a  throne. 

ADAM    (Interrupting.) 

No  more !    All  that  thou  say'st  seems  plain  and  clear, 
And  true,  yet  all  the  more,  thy  views  I  fear, 
For  superstition  blinds  the  imbecile. 
Who  still  the  soul  within  him  does  not  feel, 
Which  'mong  us  moves,  in  whomsoe'er  it  be, 
In  good,   admits  affinity  to  see, 
If  thy  cold  numbers  did  not  ruthless  kill 
All  nobler  aims  and  purest  thoughts. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  still, 

List  to  thy  fellowman,  for  he  can  give 
To  thee,  some  lessons  in  self  knowledge. 

ADAM. 

Live 
Still,  many  of  you  here? 

ESQUIMO. 

Yes,  many  more 

Than  on  my  fingers  I  can  count.    The  gore 
Of  some  I've  spilled,  and  all  would  I  have  slain, 
But  others  ceaseless  come,  'tis  all  in  vain. 
Oh,  please,  if  thou  art  God,  grant  my  request; 
Let  not  so  many  men  our  land  infest, 


215  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

And  send  into  the  world  more  of  the  seal, 
And  fewer  men ;  for  this,  I  make  appeal. 

ADAM. 

Let's  go,  Oh,  Lucifer!     Enough  for  me, 
It  is. 

LUCIFEB. 

But  let  us  wait  his  wife  to  see. 

ADAM. 

No !     We  despise  the  man,  when  he  sinks  low ; 
But  if  the  woman  thus  her  downfall  show, 
Who  once  embodied  poesy  hath  been, 
Our  fair  ideal,  so  depressed  and  mean 
Laving  in  slough,  it  would  revolting  be, 
To  view  the  caricature.     Then  go,  save  me! 
(Meanwhile  Lucifer,  having  drawn  Adam  to  the  hut, 

pushes  open   the  door,   through  which  Eve,   the 

Esquimo's  wife,  is  seen.) 

LUCIFEE. 

Dost  recognize,  or  hast  forgotten  her? 
Embrace  her  quickly,  or  thou  wilt  incur 
This  honest  man's  displeasure,  who  indeed, 
Would  grieve,  did'st  thou  not  grant  his  spouse  her 
meed. 

ADAM. 

Embrace  her,   I,  who  Aspasia  held 
Within  these  arms?     Shall  I  then,  be  compelled 
This  creature  to  embrace;  in  whom  I  see 
Her  features?  but  while  kissing,  she  to  me 
Would  seem  a  loathsome  beast. 

ESQTJIMO. 

My  wife,   a  guest 
Has  just  arrived,  receive  him  kindly. 


THE    TRAGEDY  216 

OF    MAN 


EVE. 

Rest. 
And  be  thou  welcome,  stranger! 

(Embracing  him.) 

ADAM   (Extricating  himself.) 

Help!   from  here 

Let's  flee,  Oh!  Lucifer!     My  future  sphere 
Let  me  no  longer  view,  my  dreadful  fate, 
The  useless  strife,  now,  I  would  meditate 
On  this,  If  I  can  e'er  defy  God  more? 

LUCIFEB. 
Awake  then,  Adam !     Now  thy  dream  is  o'er. 


SCENE   XV. 

(The  scene  is  changed  into  the  palm  region  of  the 
third  scene.  Adam,  again  as  a  young  man,  comes 
out  of  the  hut,  half  asleep,  looking  about  him 
with  amazement.  Eve  slumbers  within.  Lucifer 
stands  in  the  middle.  Bright  sunshine.) 

ADAM. 

Dread  images,   Oh!   whither  are  ye   fled? 
While  all  still  breathes  and  smiles,  my  heart  is  dead. 

LUCIFEB. 

The  laws  of  nature  thou'dst  annihilate, 
That  comets  new,  thy  life  illuminate, 
Thou  in  thy  vanity  thy  due  dost  deem. 


217  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


ADAM. 

Ah!  was  I  dreaming,  or  is  this  a  dream? 
Or  is  life  but  a  dream.     When  it  doth  light 
On  lifeless  matter,  to  be  lost  in  night 
With  it?    Wherefore  this  fleeting  consciousness. 
Which  but  reveals  the  awful  nothingness? 

LUCIFEB. 

Dost  thou  repine?     'Tis  but  a  cowardly  weakness 
Without  a  strife,  to  take  a  blow  with  meekness; 
But  for  the  strong,  thus  calmly  to  await, 
Unmurmuring,  the  mandates  of  a  fate 
Eternal,   proves  that   circumstances   vain 
Must  be,  for  o'er  them,  fate's  grim  mandates  reign, 
And  thou'rt  the  medium  which  draws  them  forth. 

ADAM. 

No,  no!  thou  liest.     The  will  is  free.     My  worth 

Hath  sufely  earned  it,  for  my  Paradise, 

My  all,  for  this  did  I  e'en  sacrifice, 

Much  have  I  learned  from  scenes  I  viewed  in  dreams, 

And  much  to  me  now  but  illusion  seems, 

But  'tis  for  me,  a  different  path  to  ope! 

LUCIFEB. 

If  e'er  oblivion  and  constant  hope 
Were  not  confederates  of  fate,  each  wound 
To  heal,  and  veil  the  chasm's  depths  profound, 
Assuring  thee,  "  a  hundred  bold  ones  fall 
Therein,  but  thou  more  fortunate  than  all, 
Shalt  o'er  it  leap !  "    But  thou  hast  surely  seen, 
As   scientist,    'mongst   curious   things,   I   ween, 
The  ascaris,  in  hawk  and  cat  can  live; 
But  in  the  mouse  alone,  it  doth  receive 


THE    TRAGEDY  218 

OF    MAN 

Its  first  development;  but  who  can  say 

A  certain  mouse  is  doomed  to  be  the  prey 

Of  cat  or  hawk,  and  whosoe'er  be  sly, 

May  live  to  a  great  age,  and  hoary,  die 

In  his  domestic  circle.     Still  doth  wait 

In  spite  of  all,  invincible  as  fate, 

A  law,  which  none  of  them  can  e'er  resist, 

And  many  fall,  that  always  may  exist 

In  future  ages,  the  Mollusca.     Man 

Is  not  as  individual  bound,  nor  can 

The  chain  be  borne  together,  by  the  throng; 

By  inspiration,  is  he  borne  along 

For  new  ideals.     Martyrs  at  the  stake 

There'll  be,  and  scoffers,  but  who  the  calculation 

Makes,  must  e'er  admire  the  compensation 

Of  fate,  which  all  so  well  apportioneth ; 

Sin  and  virtue;  faith,  marriage  and  death; 

Madness  and  suicide. 

ADAM. 

Hold!  what  thought 

Like  light'ning,  rushes  through  my  brain  distraught? 
E'en  thee,  O  God,  can  I  defy,  although 
A  hundred  times  fate  says,  "  thus  long,"  I  know 
I  need  not  live,  against  my  will ;  for  down 
Below  the  abyss ;  above,  the  cliff  doth  frown. 
One  spring — the  last  scene — and  the  play  doth  end. 
(Adam  rushes  up  the  cliff.  Eve  appears  at  the  door.) 


LUCIFEB. 
Doth   end — indeed!     Naught  doth   such   speech   por* 

tend. 

Is  not  each  moment,  end,  beginning  too? 
For  this,  did'st  thou  not  several  ages  view? 


219  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 


Em 

Adam,  why  did'st  thou  steal  away  from  me? 
So  cold  was  thy  last  kiss ;  anger  and  care 
Sit  on  thy  brow,  and  I  have  fear  of  thee. 

ADAM  (Going  on.) 

To  dog  my  footstep,  how  can'st  thou  thus  dare? 
This  can  the  woman  never  comprehend; 
The  lord  of  earth  his  time  can  not  e'er  spend 
In  vain  coquetry,  and  a  burden  she 

(More  tenderly.) 

Becomes.     Why  did'st  not  slumber  peacefully. 
A  little  while?  for  harder  't  will  be  now, 
The  sacrifice  I  to  the  future  owe. 

EVE. 

But  list  and  it  may  better  be  endured 
That  which  till  now  was  doubtful,  is  assured — 
The  future. 

ADAM. 
How? 

EVE. 

Thou'lt  smile  when  I   avow  , 

My  secret;  this — come  nearer  Adam — now, 
Into  thine  ear  I'll  whisper  but  one  word ; 
I  feel  I  am  a  mother. 

ADAM   (Falling  on  Ms  knees.) 

Oh!  my  Lord, 

Thou'st  vanquished  me.     Here  in  the  dust  I  lie; 
Without  thee,  'gainst  thee,  vainly  strive  must  I, 
Raise  me,  or  strike  to  earth!     I  bare  my  breast 
To  thee. 


THE   TRAGEDY  220 

OF    MAN 

LUCIFEB. 

Thou  worm!     All,  I  at  thy  behest 
Have  done,  thy  greatness,  all  forgotten? 

ADAM. 

Cease ! 
'T  was  a  distorted  vision;  this  is  peace. 

LUCIFEB. 

Why,  foolish  woman  dost  thou  boast?    To  earth, 
But  misery  and  sin,  will  bring  the  birth 
Of  him,  who  was  conceived  in  Eden,  'though 
Conceived  in  sin. 

EVE. 

And  if,   God  will,   we  know, 
One  there  will  be,  conceived  in  misery, 
And  sin  extirpate,  and  fraternity 
Will  bring  into  the  world. 

LUCIFEB. 

Dost  thou  revolt? 

Slave,  beast!     Rise  from  the  earth,  thou  dolt! 
(He  strikes  Adam.    Heaven  opens.    The  Lord  appears 
in  a  halo,  surounded  by  angels.) 

THE  LORD. 

Spirit,   down   into   dust!     Greatness   'fore   me 
Can  not  exist. 

LUCIFEB   (Crouching.) 
My  curses  upon  thee! 

THE  LOBD. 

Rise,  Adam!  preserve  thy  soul  serene. 
Once  more  thou'rt  in  my  care. 


221  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

LUCIFEB. 

The  family  scene! 

To  sentiment,  perhaps,  most  beautiful, 
To  understanding,  infinitely  dull. 
And  wearisome.     'Tis  best  to  steal  away. 

(Starts.) 
THE  LORD. 

Lucifer,  a  word  I  have  to  say 
To  thee.     Remain!     My  son,  tell  me  thy  grief. 

ADAM. 

My  Lord,  such  frightful  scenes  have  tortured  me; 
And  I  know  not  what  is  reality. 
Oh!  tell  me,  tell  what  is  my  destiny! 
Is  there  naught  else  but  this  existence  here, 
So  limited  and  narrow?    And  my  soul, 
Will  it  'mid  all  the  strife  then  be  distilled, 
Like  purest  wine,  that  poured  upon  the  ground, 
To  sink  into  the  dust?     Or  dost  ordain 
For  noble  spirits,  better  things?     My  race 
Will  it  approach  thy  throne,  or  like  the  beast 
But  tread  the  mill,  till  wearied  unto  death 
From  its  own  sphere,  escaping  never  more? 
And  will  the  noble  soul  be  recompensed 
For  the  shed  blood  and  scoffing  of  the  mob? 
Enlighten  me,  and  gratefully  my  fate, 
Whate'er  it  be,  I  will  endure,  if  only 
I  may  progress,  for  this  uncertainty 
Is  hell. 

THE  LOBD. 

Ask  not  again,  the  secret,  veiled 
Beneficently  from  thy  longing  eyes, 
By  the  wise  hand  of  God.     But  could'st  thou  know 
That  momentarily  on  earth,  thy  soul 


THE    TRAGEDY  222 

OF    MAN 

Did  rest  while  waits  eternity  above, 

No  virtue  'twere  to  suffer  longer  here. 

If  thou  did'st  know  thy  soul  would  be  absorbed 

In  dust,  for  grand  ideas,  what  incentive 

To  sacrifice  the  moment's  fleeting  bliss? 

While  now,  the  future  gleameth  through  a  mist, 

So  heavy  laden  with  the  cares  and  woes 

Of  this  transitory  life,  the  sense 

Of  an  infinitude  doth  wake;  if  this 

Engender  pride,  mortality  restricts  it; 

Both  greatness  then  and  virtue,  are  assured. 

LUCIFEB   ( Laughing. ) 

In  truth,  whate'er  career  thou  enterest, 
Is  glorious!     So  greatness  then  and  virtue 
Thee  will  guide.     These  terms  can  be  embodied 
Alone,   where  prejudice   and  superstition 
With  ignorance  united,  hold  their  sway. 
Why  have  I  striven  so  long  with  man,  of  mire 
And  sunshine  molded?  He  is  too  dwarfed  for  wisdom, 
Yet  too  great  for  blindness. 

ADAM. 

Scoff,   oh!    scoff   not, 
Lucifer!     I've  seen  the  pure  creation 
Of  thy  mind,  but  cold  upon  my  soul, 
The  sight  did  fall ;  but  Lord,  who  will  uphold 
If  on  the  right  path  I  remain?    From  me 
Thou  did'st  withdraw  thy  guiding  hand,  that  I 
Might  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  eat. 

THE  LORD. 

Thine   arm 

IB  strong,  thy  soul  exalted;  infinite 
The  scope  which  e'er  to  action  doth  invite ; 


223  THE    TRAGEDY 

OF    MAN 

And  if  thou  heedest  well,  a  voice  will  call 

To  thee  unceasingly,  to  lure  thee  back 

And  raise  tbee  up ;  but  follow  e'er  tbe  call. 

If  in  the  turbulence  of  active  life 

The  heavenly  voice  be  stilled,  tbe  purer  soul 

Of  this  frail  woman  e'er  will  hear  it,  far 

Away,  from  the  mire  of  earthly  interest, 

And  in  her  heart,  to  song  and  poesy 

'Twill  be  distilled.    Thus,  at  thy  side,  sits  e'er 

In  happiness  and  in  misfortune's  hour, 

A  smiling  and  consoling  genius. 

And  thou  too  Lucifer,  thou  art  a  link 

In  my  great  cosmos;  so  pursue  thy  work, 

For  thy  cold  wisdom  and  absurd  negation 

Will  be  the  leaven  that  causes  fermentation ; 

Though  in  man,  an  instant  doubt  creating, 

What  matters  it,  he  will  return  again; 

But  thine  own  sin,  eternal  being,  that 

Which  thou  would'st  fain  destroy,  will  be  the  germ 

Of  beauty  and  nobility  to  come. 

CHOEUS  OF  ANGELS 
What  a  mighty  thought! 
We're  free,  'twixt  good  and  ill 
To  choose,  while  over  us, 
God's  mercy  waiteth  still. 
Act  boldly,  fearing  not 
The  herd's  ingratitude; 
For  this  is  not  thine  aim 
But  action,  great  and  good. 
For  else  thou  must  feel  shame, 
And  vanity,  to  earth, 
This  consciousness  doth  hurl, 
Ennobling,  glorious  worth. 
But  on  the  lofty  way 


THE    TRAGEDY  224 

OF    MAN 

Let  thee  not  blind  the  sight, 

The  thought,  that  thou  could'st  add 

One  atom  to  God's  might, 

He  only  speaks  to  thee, 

As  means  toward  thy  fate 

Fulfilling.     Honor  comes 

From  him,  for  him  doth  wait. 

EVE. 

Ah !  now  I  comprehend  the  lay ;  to  God 
Be  praise! 

ADAM. 

I  feel  it  too,  and  follow  it. 
But  oh!  my  destiny — could  I  forget! 

THE  LORD. 
I've  told  thee,  man,  strive  and  trust! 


THE    END. 


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